


It Might Be Magic

by ProfessorFrankly



Series: It Might Be Magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 40,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorFrankly/pseuds/ProfessorFrankly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q has a secret. James needs to know it. Because together, they could save the world. Eventual SLASH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue

"So much for my promising career in espionage," Q muttered to himself as he hacked firewalls and lay a trail of virtual breadcrumbs leading Raoul Silva right to James Bond's manor in Scotland.

Q-branch was in chaos; various techs sped through multiple projects at once, pulling the networks up to speed, beefing up security, and bolstering the recovery of MI6 from Silva's attacks while Q, himself, ran the work that would, with luck, lead to the capture or kill of the man who'd thrown MI6 into a maelstrom.

"Good luck, James," Q murmured softly, hitting the last set of keys that would set off the sequence. He pulled back from the keyboard, then, sweeping his hands through his messy black hair, and narrowed green eyes behind round glasses at the map of Skyfall that popped up in front of him. He tilted his head, and a bolt of recognition drove through him.

Bond's home was adjacent to Hogwarts.

Q furrowed his brow. The wards would be up, as usual, but perhaps a bit of warning to the Headmistress might not go amiss. He backed away from his electronics, and nodded to the new R. "I need a cuppa after all that. Want one?"

"Yeah, go on, then. I'm just dusting off this last firewall or I'd go for you," R replied absently, intent on her work.

"Not to worry," Q said with a faint smile. "I'll be right back."

He headed toward the small kitchenette tucked back away from the electronics, shielded behind leaded glass, and started the electric kettle before digging the Earl Grey out of the cupboard and finding his favorite mug. He set the mug on the counter, then turned to the corner farthest from the glass, pointing very deliberately at a spot known only to him and the two other wizards in MI6.

"Expecto Patronum," he whispered, and a miniature version of his stag appeared in the corner. "Go to Hogwarts and tell Headmistress McGonnagall that one of her neighbors is in a spot of trouble. Not to worry, but perhaps boost the wards for the timebeing?" His stag nodded, then swiftly streaked away through the electronics-free corner, out and up through the tunnel there to escape notice by the non-magicals in the building.

Q watched it go, then turned back to his mug of tea, remembering just in time to pull another down for his second-in-command.


	2. Chapter 1: A New Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a bit about Harry.

Chapter 1

Six months into his new world, Harry Potter was hooked on computers. 

Though he'd been familiar with them before his ventures into the magical world, Harry had never been allowed to spend a great deal of time with the machines, and, at any rate, his adolescent bursts of accidental magic would not have made working on them an easy thing to do. Besides, he had plenty to be going on with throughout his youth, what with the whole Voldemort thing.

Thank all the gods that was over and done, Harry thought.

But with Voldemort out of the way, Harry suddenly had a future, and though the Auror office beckoned, he took the advice of his friends and mentors and took a year off to reflect on what he wanted out of his life. Harry traveled, sometimes with a companion, sometimes not; lay on sunny beaches, went clubbing with friends and with strangers, and generally focused on learning about himself. He focused on his own well-being with the blessings of those he'd left behind, including Ginny.

Ah, Ginny. They'd tried their hardest to be a couple, but in the end, they'd realized they were better off as friends. Sometimes with benefits. But mostly just as companions who occasionally shared a male lover. 

And wasn't that a revelation for someone of Harry's background? Dudley's detestable teasing aside, Harry hadn't actually ever thought of men in a sexual way until Ginny had opened his eyes to the possibility that he might enjoy them. Sure, he'd noticed Cedric's handsomeness and Bill's good looks ... okay, maybe he'd just been in denial. Harry had been expected to be the very heterosexual Gryffindor Golden Boy, after all, and he required the affection and affirmation that being said Golden Boy brought him, having been deprived of it otherwise his entire life.

Still, that year had taught him more about himself, just Harry, than he'd ever hoped for or dreamed of. He learned enough to know that while he didn't really want to chase down dark wizards for the rest of his life, he was uniquely suited for law enforcement. 

At age 19, fresh from the beaches of southern France, Harry Potter walked into the Head Auror's office ready to start training, only to be pulled aside by Kingsley Shacklebolt. 

"Harry," Kingsley said, "I think I have a better opportunity for you. You were muggle-raised, correct?"

As if he didn't know, Harry thought. "Yes."

"How do you feel about university? Perhaps in the sciences?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Kingsley drew a deep breath. "What do you know about MI6?"

Harry raised both eyebrows. "Her Majesty's Secret Service?" At Kingsley's nod, Harry shrugged. "Never thought about them. Espionage for the interests of Britain, I suppose. That's it."

"MI6 would like to recruit muggle-raised or muggle-born wizards for service to the Commonwealth. In exchange for a period of five years of service, the wizards or witches will be given a complete university education at either Oxford or Cambridge, which would enable them to be completely employable in both the muggle and the magical worlds, especially with your Hogwarts education." Kingsley drew a deep breath. "As a veteran of the second war and the defeater of Voldemort, MI6 is particularly interested in you."

Harry felt as though his legs were falling out from under him, so he conjured a chair and fell into its plushy seat, not noticing that he'd failed to draw his wand to do so. He rarely used his wand these days, as power simply sang under the surface of his skin, clean and sizzling, ready for anything. Kingsley noticed, however, and added, "As a bonus, you, in particular, would be given a completely new identity and an opportunity to start with a clean slate in a world that knows nothing about you. You could live anonymously, if you chose to." He cleared his throat. "Of course, you could stay here, complete Auror training, and live entirely magical, as well."

Harry thought about it. Freedom, anonymity, and a chance to do good. Plus a muggle university education. "Other than the five years' service, is there another catch?"

"You'd have limited contact with the magical world, only as needed. And if it interests you, they'd prefer you to study something in the sciences--apparently there's a branch of MI6 devoted to support for their agents in the field that produces items that require knowledge of engineering, for example."

"I always did like maths when I was in school," Harry mumbled quietly, still thinking. Honestly, before he'd known he was a wizard, he'd thought about being a math teacher, if he'd thought anything at all beyond eventually getting out of the cupboard. "I really like this idea, actually."

Kingsley smiled. "Sleep on it. Come back tomorrow at noon, and I'll see if I can get someone from MI6 here to answer any questions you might have." 

Harry nodded absently, then apparated away just as absently, unaware, as Kingsley gaped, that there were anti-apparation wards over the Ministry.

***

Kingsley took Harry to a restaurant in muggle London to meet a silver-haired lioness of a woman known only as M.

***

Six months later, Harry completed his first term project at Cambridge, a computer worm that worked on a complex mathematical algorithm.

He was hooked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the quick positive response! Have a second chapter in appreciation. Also, I'll update as quick as I can. I've not let a story go unfinished yet, but I'm not sure entirely where this one is going. It was just a random thought about Ben Whishaw could totally have played Harry Potter ... then off I went.


	3. Chapter 2: When the Sky Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Q and 007 bond a bit. Pun intended.

Chapter 2

Skyfall had been a disaster. 

Q looked over the area, having arrived with the helicopters to see about damage control, only to see Bond, looking stoic and, yet, somehow forlorn, as medics covered M with a white sheet and shifted her body to the waiting carrier.

"007," Q greeted him quietly. "Sitrep?"

Bond looked at him blankly, then his face cleared a bit at the question. As if by rote, he answered, "Silva is dead. M is dead. My parents' home is in shambles. My Aston Martin is deader than dead." He sighed deeply, and covered ice blue eyes with a hand. "I think that covers it."

Q nodded. "Thank you, 007." He paused, then looked out at the devastation. "Can I offer my assistance in any way?"

"Can you make this all go away?" Bond mumbled from behind his hand, the normally tough-as-nails agent unaware that Q's sensitive ears could pick up every word. Bond straightened up. "Not that I can think of, Q. But thanks."

Q nodded again, wishing he could openly repair the devastation in front of him with a quick wave of his wand. But that wouldn't do. Not only was it against regs for MI6, it would violate a significant chunk of the statute of secrecy to do so at present, with as many muggles as were on the ground at the moment. But there was one thing... "Take me to your car, Bond. Let me see if there's anything I can do there, since I obviously can't do anything here, any longer."

Bond looked up and saw only sincerity in the bright green eyes of the man before him. "Come on, then. Thought it's been blown up so thoroughly, I doubt there's anything you can do."

"Won't know til we look, eh?" Q smiled faintly, then followed Bond across the massive lawn to the outbuilding where the burned-out shell of the Aston Martin waited. Q gave a low whistle. "Poor girl," he murmured, running his hands over the frame and using a nonverbal diagnostic to feel the metal's tensile strength. The metal frame sang under his hands, minutely repairing itself at a molecular level. "The frame's still sound," he said, before looking under the hood. Parts were scrambled and blackened, but not obliterated. He could repair this. "Parts are all still here, just shambles. It'll take some time, and some attention, Bond, but I could repair this. If you want me to."

Bond looked at him closely. "Are you sure?"

Q smiled more widely. "Yes, Mr. Bond, the patient will live. She just needs a little time in hospital with Dr. Q."

Bond smiled for the first time since Q had shown up. "Dr. Q?"

Q cleared his throat. "Well, I do hold doctorates in physics and engineering, so it's not entirely inaccurate," he said crisply, adding a wink.

"And yet you look like you're barely out of adolescence," Bond retorted. "Were you a child genius or something?"

Q's smile faded. "Or something." He turned away, crouching to get a look underneath at the drive train. 

Bond frowned again. "I didn't mean to hit a sore spot, if I did."

"No, no," Q waved him off from his perch half under the car, nimbly turning to slide himself behind the front tyres. "You're fine. Just don't always like to be reminded of my childhood out of the blue like that. No worries." He hummed. 

Bond watched the man wiggle under his car and appreciated the sleek lines of his clearly adult body. Lean and lithe, lightly muscled, yet obviously limber and strong, Q's body offered Bond a feast for his eyes, intentionally or not. And Bond rather thought Q was not trying to display himself, just looking at the car.

Interesting, Bond thought at the flicker of arousal that went through him. Then his eyes wandered back to the helicopter, where medics were now securing M's body, and the flicker died. 

"Need help getting out from under there?" Bond asked politely. 

"Nope, I've got it," Q clambered back out, ignoring the sooty mud that had accumulated on his overcoat and restraining himself from throwing an automatic cleaning charm at it. Woudn't do to be caught out over a cleaning charm, he reminded himself. "Do you need a ride back to HQ?"

"Ah, no," Bond said, shaking his head. "I'm thinking I'll just ..."

"Ah," Q repeated after him. "Shall I pretend I don't know what I think I shouldn't know?"

"If you would."

"Well, then, I'll arrange for the Aston to be transported to my private workshop for a little TLC," Q said. "I'm sure you can manage on your own." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "Please do get in contact if you need anything I can provide."

Bond's eyes widened at the unintentional offer, and that flicker of arousal re-lit. "Anything?" he asked huskily.

Q's eyes dilated faster than Bond would have thought possible. "Oh, um. Maybe. If I get dinner first. And possibly a date. I'm not really a three-dates sort, and I haven't had a casual shag in ages...shutting up now."

Impossibly, Bond laughed. "We'll see about dinner then, maybe, when I return."

"I think I'd enjoy that, almost as much as I'll enjoy having my hands on your Aston," Q flirted back. 

"And I'll enjoy having your hands on me," Bond replied huskily, before fading into the shadows of the outbuilding and walking away.

Q bit his lip. 

This was going to be trouble. Good thing he was fond of trouble.


	4. Chapter 3: A Little Background

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's journey to becoming the Quartermaster.

Chapter 3

Harry Potter attended graduation ceremonies at Cambridge to be hooded and recognized with doctorates in physics and engineering just six years after he started university, a stunning feat that his good friend Hermione Granger-Weasley couldn't seem to get over.

"Well, I knew you were smart, Harry, and that you could do well if you just studied more, but this seems a bit surprising," she commented, for the fifth time in as many hours that spring day, as she absently rubbed her six-months-pregnant belly. 

"Yes, yes, we all know I'm just full of dumb luck and instinct, and little else," he replied tiredly, already regretting inviting his muggleborn friend to the exceptionally muggle ceremony. Harry had just wanted one friend to see him get his degrees, to share his achievement. He rarely saw anyone in his old circle, focused tightly on finishing his education so he could start his service with MI6, but he wanted at least one person to know that he was doing well at something.

"That's not true, Harry, and I'm sorry if I implied that it was," Hermione said swiftly. "I am just amazed at what you've achieved here. I'm so glad you've found something you love doing, and that it lets you shine in such a different way."

Harry smiled at the woman who was his sister in all but blood. "Me, too."

***

His new identity gave his name as William Randolph, and as William Randolph, he started work in the tech division of Q-branch the week after the ceremony, ink barely dry on his degree. (Harry Potter's identity was alive, well, and listed clearly on copies of his transcripts kept only in the Ministry of Magic. Just in case.)

***

"William" met the elderly inventor known as the Quartermaster, or Q, on his second day, in a private meeting that revealed the connection between muggle and magical started with the Quartermaster.

"I'm a Squib," Q said bluntly. "More suited to inventing and engineering anyway. All that wand-waving stuff makes no sense to me at all. But we need to know how it works, and we need to know when it's being used against us, and that is, in part, what you're doing in my division. I know you're a prodigy with magic, too, Randolph. I've seen your original file, and my sister's told me a story or two. I think you'll love what we're doing here."

Q showed him file footage of a particular wizard in Shang-Hai.

"This one seems to be running a scam on the locals--a truly nasty piece of work who's enslaving young girls and selling them off to the highest bidders, in both worlds," Q informed him. "If he hasn't broken the statute of secrecy yet, he's the luckiest wizard alive. He's also, fortunately, weak in magic. We'll be sending a 00 after him as soon as we can pin the location of his lair."

"What do you want me to do, sir?" "William" asked. 

"Track him, find his base, and invent something that will dampen whatever magic he has access to, and his wards, so that we can send an agent out to take care of him." Q paused. "All of our 00 agents have a license to kill, and none of them are wizards. We need to have an edge to protect both worlds from these magical threats."

"You want me to go to Shang-Hai?"

Q contemplated that. "If you need to go to his base, once you've tracked it down, so you can tell us what wards we need to break down, you may, but clear it with me first. You're far too valuable to risk your life in the field. You're the only wizard I know who knows magic and science. More than that, you know evil, and how to recognize it. I won't risk your life for something less than the security of Great Britain herself."

Something in Harry/"William" twisted. To hear a simple expression of care for his life, which he'd already laid down once to save both worlds, touched something in him. He didn't care to look too hard at it, though.

"I'll get started right away, sir."

***

Some judicious hacking, a little magical tracking, and one magic-dampening bracelet later, William watched Q outfit 003 for a mission to Shang-Hai. The cuff bracelet, made of platinum, carried wards that would react with those found in the criminal wizard's compound and create a magic-free pocket around the agent, allowing him to punch through straight to his target. The agent was warned about the new "technology" in use by the criminal wizard that looked like lasers but wasn't, and sent on his way.

003 came back a week later, mission goals achieved. 

***

Harry celebrated his promotion to "R" three years later with a bottle of good scotch and a threesome with Ginny and her new boyfriend, the Keeper for Puddlemere United.

***

As R, Harry learned to delegate mission assignments, tech requests, and hacking jobs, and took only the most challenging parts of the work to himself. He also began training another young wizard, a muggleborn a few years younger than he, to spot the influence of magic on the muggle world stage and counteract it with custom tools tailored to the situations in which agents found themselves in the field. R gradually took on more responsibilities from the Quartermaster, until the older gentleman spent most of his time working on gadgets and research, coming up for air only when he needed to approve paperwork or outfit an agent. 

(Though Harry, having converted payroll and requisitions to electronic platforms, really only needed a tap of Q's code on the tablet for such things, he wanted to make sure Q at least left the lab to eat once in a while. And the agents all loved Q. Going to the old man for their tools was the highlight of their days.)

R was standing next to Q in ops when 007 was shot off a bridge in Turkey. He'd never met the man in person. 

***


	5. Chapter 4: Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bond wanders back and questions are asked.

Chapter 4. 

 

Bond had been off the grid for three weeks in the wake of Skyfall, and the new M was growing frustrated with the agent's long absence.

"Do you have any idea where he is at all, Q?" M asked, coolly reviewing the electronic "paperwork" presented to him by the new Quartermaster. "Using any means--including your special skill set?"

Q frowned slightly. "No, sir. He doesn't have a special tracker on him, and he's disabled the mechanical tracker in him." 

"Can you do anything else to find him?"

"Sir, anything else I might do would be a direct violation of the International Statute of Secrecy," Q said crisply. "I am not prepared to do so at this time unless his life is in grave danger, which I doubt. If his file is to be believed, I think it quite likely that he's grieving, sir, using copious amounts of alcohol and warm bodies. He'll turn up when he's ready."

M looked up. "And if I order you to violate the statute?"

Q looked at him coldly. "Then I'll resign, sir, immediately." And good luck to you, getting anything out of my department without me present, he added silently.

M tapped his code into the screen to mark his approval of the documents--budget and requisitions--then handed the tablet back to Q. "It's good I didn't order such a thing then," he observed mildly. "Carry on, Q, and let me know if our 007 turns up."

"Yes, sir."

***

"You really should upgrade your security." Bond's voice greeted him as Q stepped into his London flat. "You're one of the highest ranking people in MI6, and a child with a lock pick could have gotten into your front door."

Unless he or she had bad intentions, Q mentally added, in which case the wards would have electrified and banished the child to a warded cell in the Ministry, to be dealt with later. It was a tricky bit of magic, but a lovely, useful bit.

"No one knows where I live, so it's generally safe here," Q replied, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it up by the door. "What brings you by, Bond?"

"Haven't you heard?" Bond replied. "I got my mentor killed, and I'm now working my way through my grief with copious amounts of alcohol and warm bodies."

Q paused from where he was rooting through his laptop bag. "You've got a bug in Mallory's office?"

"To be fair, it was M's office. Is M's office? Bugger it. I placed it before I left for Skyfall just on the off," Bond explained. 

"He's supposed to sweep his office every day," Q muttered. "Either he's not doing that, or your bug isn't being recognized, which is a problem that must be addressed immediately."

"I used one of your dampening gadgets in combination with the listening device and popped it under his desk."

"Which hides it from view in its own pocket space," Q mused. "Clever. Unsanctioned, but clever. You know I'll have to remove it for that reason. M's office is constantly under surveillance anyway."

"True, but this way I get a direct ear in the office if I need to know more about the paranoid goings on in the head office." Bond sipped from a glass he must have brought with him, because it didn't look like anything Q had in stock. Nor did the beverage look like something Q had on hand. "What's the International Statute of Secrecy?"

Oh, dear, Q thought, and replied, "That's a need to know, and you ... well, you don't need to know. Yet."

Bond nodded. "Classified. Top secret. And yet enough of a threat to get Mallory to back down from a confrontation with you. And what's a 'special tracker'? You already know I disabled the so-called mechanical one."

"I wasn't really prepared for this confrontation tonight, Bond," Q admitted quietly. "Can I just have a glass of whatever it is you brought with you?"

"Evasion. A classic for a reason," Bond acknowledged. "Get your own glass, and I'll pour."

It was good scotch.

***

Three glasses later, tipsy, Q pulled off his eyeglasses and rubbed his eyes. "And that, my friend, is why all pop culture is simply designed to subjugate the masses and keep us from seeing what's right in front of us."

"Please don't tell me you actually can build a sonic screwdriver." Bond, much less tipsy due to years of massive alcohol consumption, sloshed more scotch into their glasses.

"I've played with it, yeah. No physicist worth their paygrade hasn't," Q defended himself. "The utlimate tool, right? All I'd have to do when you went into the field is send one along."

Bond whistled, low and long. "Wouldn't that be nice? But I still want an exploding pen."

"Maybe for Christmas," Q mumbled, now actively trying not to fall asleep in his own easy chair.

"Q?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for being here."

"Anything I can provide, Bond." 

And then the sound of Q's soft snores filled the apartment. 

***

Q woke, suddenly, from a vivid dream featuring magical combat, at 3 a.m., a spell on his tongue.

"You're fine, Q."

Green eyes snapped open and looked left, to Bond, who had apparently put Q to bed and lay next to him for some sleep of his own. Q glanced down, noting that while his shoes had been removed, he was otherwise fully dressed.

"And unmolested," Bond said dryly.

"Pity," Q muttered, before briskly rubbing his hands over his face. 

"Pardon?" There was definite amusement in that baritone voice.

"Never mind." Q sat up, reached to his bedside table for his neatly folded glasses, and slipped them on. "Thanks for saving me from my easy chair."

"Not a problem. Mind if I kip here? I'd have asked before, except you were already asleep."

"Help yourself." Q got up and headed for the loo. He took his time using the facilities, then washed his hands and headed for the kitchen to get a bottled water. He sipped the cold beverage slowly, relaxing with each sip to pull himself out of the sharp battle readiness with which he woke. He felt, more than heard, Bond's approach behind him.

"Best to not come up behind me just now, Bond," Q warned quietly, sipping again. 

Silence. "Call me James."

Q smiled a little. "James." He continued to sip, breathe, sip, and breathe. The technique worked. The dreams were fewer now, with a decade's distance, but when they came, he woke ready, magic crackling under his skin. The routine settled him.

He took a deep breath and set the bottle down. "And that's why I really shouldn't drink scotch when I'm stressed and tired."

"I'm sorry."

Q shook his head. "No, don't be. I know my limits. I should have known better." He turned to face James. "Sorry about waking you."

"My fault for being here and plying you with scotch," James acknowledged. He raised a slow hand toward Q's face, gently cupping a stubbled cheek. "Alright?"

Q raised his own hand to cover James'. "I'll be fine."

"Are you, in any way, emotionally compromised at this time?" James asked quietly.

Q looked him in the eyes, green meeting ice blue. "Not at all."

"Good." And James leant forward, catching Q's lips with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive comments and kudos, folks. I feel like I'm doing some world-building here, and there are LOTS of possibilities for future story arcs to play with. Help me out by asking questions and pointing plot holes, will you?


	6. Chapter 5: Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Harry became Q

Chapter 5

In the months following Bond's disappearance in Turkey, R got to know the man through his file. He'd been assigned to see if he could track Bond, if possible, or at least his body. As the months wore on, however, R had been forced to conclude that if the man still lived, he didn't want to be found. 

And more power to him, in R's opinion, if management could so callously disregard Bond's life.

Still, R kept the file on his desk, adding to it as he dug into Bond's off-duty habits and hangouts, identified friends he was likely to contact eventually if he still lived, and made notes about the minute trace evidence that indicated Bond might, indeed, still live.

The biggest clue, in R's opinion, was the lack of body.

And then MI6 blew up.

***

The transition from R to Q happened with no fanfare and under extreme circumstances.

The elderly Quartermaster died in his labs, caught under a pile of rubble. Harry worked tirelessly with other survivors to unearth the injured and reveal the dead, quietly using judicious amounts of magic to speed the process. It helped that he didn't require a wand for most magic. He caught a glimpse of a fatigued M overlooking the madness under guard, but she didn't distract him from his work until all the people who had been recorded as being in the building had been accounted for.

As he tenderly lay the old Quartermaster on a stretcher, M approached him, carefully, from the front. "R?"

"Yes, M?"

"Will you consent to take the post of Quartermaster?"

He looked at the silver-haired lioness who'd recruited him more than 10 years ago, knowing she was placing her faith in a magical child soldier. "Yes, M. I will."

She nodded. "See to your clearance. Get a minimum of eight hours rest. Report at 0900 tomorrow for briefing and regrouping."

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

As M walked away, Harry pulled a tablet out of thin air, erased William Randolph, gave himself director-level security clearance, and became Q.

***

The explosion drew Bond back to London, and following communication with M, the newly named Q headed to the National Gallery to meet the agent in person for the first time.

On paper, Bond's value as an agent was spelled out clearly. He lived as one of England's finest assets, and Q respected the man he caught glimpses of through the file. 

In person, Bond was magnificent. Q acknowledged to himself, even as he continued his dry commentary and handed over the gun and radio, that he could see why the file was loaded with records of Bond's field conquests. The man exuded sex appeal.

And couldn't keep himself from flirting, apparently.

Still, Q tamped the fledgling attraction to the man down. His work meant Q had very little time for play of that sort, and though it was clear that Bond appreciated both sexes, taking a risk on an agent for a casual shag didn't seem a good idea.

(And a part of the now 31-year-old orphan still wanted a home, and a family. Harry was decidedly no longer interested in casual.)

Q sent Bond off, and settled back into his temporary HQ to monitor his progress and re-organize Q-branch.

***

Silva surprised him. Battered and defiant--not to mention insane, Q added to himself--Silva's overall plan to get to M was well thought out. Q played catch up in his own databases, wielding his more-than-considerable skill as a hacker to toss Silva out of his network and re-erect new, stronger firewalls. When Bond contacted him for assistance in finally taking Silva down at Skyfall, Q didn't hesitate to cooperate. Silva appeared to be the definition of a clear and present danger to the Commonwealth, and such dangers always took precedence in Q's eyes.

As he lay the trail that Bond requested, shooing Silva north, he gave more thought to the agent, an orphan heading "home" for the first time in years. (Harry imagined having to take a threat to Privet Drive to neutralize it, and shuddered.) 

"Good luck, James."

***

The silver-haired lioness died.

A part of Bond did, too.

And Q stepped in to do what Q-branch always did--salvage the pieces, and turn them into something useful.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James figures it out. But he has help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much longer chapter, and a challenge to recap Harry's story without using the M-word.

Chapter 6. 

 

Q leaned into James' kiss, opening his mouth slightly to let the older man sweep in. He felt James cup the back of his head, threading sturdy fingers through messy black hair, and surrendered to the sensations of a wet tongue against his own, a hard muscled body pressed against his, a hardness matched with another at a roll of his hips. 

They kissed for long, fierce minutes, until a quiet beep broke Q's concentration. He broke away, panting, drawing his hands back to press against James' shoulders, pressing him away. "That's an emergency signal, James. I have to answer it."

James nodded, pressing a warm kiss to Q's forehead before backing away to lean against a kitchen counter, his own breathing uneven. "Of course," he murmured.

Q took a deep breath, then straightened himself up and walked over to the tablet he'd left on his kitchen table. He picked it up, tapped the screen icon indicating an emergency message.

"WE HAVE A SPECIAL PROBLEM. -- M"

"Buggering, bloody hell," Q muttered fiercely. A "special" problem could only mean a magical one.

"Serious?"

Q sighed. "Yes. I'll have to go in." He thought for a moment. "James, you know I have a secret to guard."

"Yes?"

Q looked into ice blue eyes. "There are certain conditions under which I can reveal that secret. One, as the division head most responsible for its security, I can divulge the secret to another in MI6 if neccessary for the security of the Commonwealth. Two, I can divulge the secret to a spouse, family member or significant other under limited conditions. Three, I can confirm the existence of the secret to someone who has unlocked it themselves."

James looked at him intently. "Do I meet condition one?"

"Possibly. It depends upon the nature of the problem just indicated to me."

James nodded. "Condition two?"

"I'd say that depended on you at this point. A bit of snogging in my kitchen doesn't qualify you as a significant other."

"No, I imagine not. Though I would like to see where this could go," James said. "To be clear."

Warmth grew in the pit of Q's stomach, and he smiled. "Me, too." He cleared his throat. "But, we're not there yet. So, that leaves three."

"Well, I know that whatever this secret is, it's protected internationally. It's a secret you keep, that M is in on, but M doesn't appear to appreciate it for what it is, if he'd ask you to use your interest in it so casually." James speculated. 

Q took a deep breath. "If you're interested, I could share with you my life story, eliminating only the secret itself. It's information you'd want to know anyway, I assume, if you're truly interested in seeing where we could go. As a couple I mean."

James smiled, openly. "I imagine I'm an open book to you."

"Yes," Q acknowledged. "At least on paper. I had the task of trying to confirm or deny your death, behind the scenes, and everything on you was opened up to me." He chewed his bottom lip. "It was part of the job, but I liked the man I learned about. I liked his bravery and his loyalty. But paperwork only tells you about your missions, you strengths, your weaknesses. It doesn't tell me how you felt about what you were doing, or what makes you tick." He moved forward to cup James' jaw with his right hand. "And it doesn't tell me what you taste like."

James moved in again, kissing him fiercely for a moment, then easing back. "Telling me your story would be a good start to balancing out that knowledge," James said quietly. "But only if you want to."

Q squeezed his eyes shut, then turned back to the tablet. He tapped out a response: "ACKNOWLEDGED. ETA ONE HOUR. -Q"

"I've got an hour to tell you that story and report to HQ," he said without turning around. 

"Is that enough time?"

"For the overview, yeah."

"Right then."

***

Q led James to his sofa, and sat next to him. "You might have guessed, from the way I woke tonight, that my life has not always been a safe and easy one."

"Yes," James acknowledged. "You were clearly battling in your nightmare, judging from the twitches and the instant awareness when you woke."

"This is hard for me to talk about, even now, at least parts of it. I don't think I've ever told it all in one go, either. Most of my friends--those I still stay in limited contact with--they lived it with me, to a degree, so I've never had to spit it all out." Q took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, and jumped only slightly when a warm arm settled around his shoulders, turning him to rest his face against James' chest in a cuddle. But James said nothing.

"So, er, it begins with a domestic terrorist cell that ran rampant in the 70s, led by a man who called himself Voldemort. Conventional law enforcement was ineffective in slowing him down, and a vigilante counterterrorism group was formed to deal with his threat. My parents were part of the counterterrorism group, known as the Order of the Phoenix."

James frowned slightly. This sounded familiar.

Q didn't notice, but continued. "I was born on July 31, 1980. Shortly before birth, a psychic made a prediction that a child born to parents who had defied Voldemort three times would be born at the end of the seventh month, and that child would have the power to defeat Voldemort for good. Two children fit the description, but Voldemort chose to go after me and my parents. A friend of my parents betrayed their location to Voldemort, and on Halloween 1981, he attacked us.

"He killed my father, who tried to hold him off as my mother fled with me up the stairs. Then Voldemort chased my mother upstairs, catching her as she lay me down in my crib. He offered to spare her if she would let him kill me. She refused. He killed her, then turned on me.

"But his weapon backfired, and he disappeared. People thought he was gone for good, and celebrated the fact. They called me the 'Boy-Who-Lived.' But the leader of the Order of the Phoenix was suspicious that no body was found, and he knew that I was in danger from Voldemort's followers, so he hid me in plain sight, in a suburb in Surrey, with my aunt and uncle on my mother's side. No one on either side knew my mother even had a sister.

"I spent 10 years living in my aunt and uncle's home, sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs and working for my keep. No one told me anything. My cousin bullied and beat me up. And on my eleventh birthday, the leader of the Order, who was Headmaster at an exclusive school in Scotland for those who know the secret, invited me to go to school there as well. My relatives didn't want me to go, and tried to outrun the invitations, but that didn't work. An Order member was sent to take me from my relatives and bring me back into the world that I had been hiding from--the world of the secret."

James was definitely frowning now. Targeted by terrorists? Hidden and kidnapped from his relatives, who sounded neglectful? And the name Voldemort ...

Q cuddled in closer. "My parents had arranged for my tuition at school when I was born, so there was no problem with fees. In fact, I learned, upon my re-entry into that world, that they'd left me a significant sum of money that my relatives new nothing about. Hard to tell, really, what would have happened had they known." He trailed off. "At any rate. During my first year, Voldemort infiltrated the school and worked in tandem with one of the instructors to isolate something within the school that he believed would help return him to power. I stopped him, because no one else would.

"I was sent back to my relatives in the summer, and they were not pleased with me, but because I now knew about the secret, there was a residual level of fear that I would use it against them. And at any rate, my relatives now knew that I was being watched. I still worked hard, but I had a bedroom instead of a cupboard. Before the summer ended, however, my uncle got fed up with everything and locked me in my room. He put bars on my windows and a cat flap in the door so I could be fed. My best mate from school got worried when I didn't contact him, or respond to his messages, and he and his identifical twin brothers showed up and broke me out."

James softly said, "It sounds like a nightmare."

"It sort of was. There was so much of this new world that was wonderful, especially the new friends I made, but there was a lot to fear, too. There were loads of times when I was growing up that I just wanted to give up, run away, let someone else deal with the problems I was being dealt."

"But you didn't."

"No. It really wasn't an option. I just had to go on." Q was silent for a moment. "During my second year, one of Voldemort's supporters attempted to infiltrate the school by means of a large, dangerous animal. No one could figure out what the animal was, because it left no witnesses to its attacks. Eventually, my friends and I figured it out when one of my best friends was trapped by it. Without an adult nearby to assist, I was forced to kill the animal myself. I nearly died."

"What animal?"

"I can't tell you that until you know the secret."

Stumped, James sat back. It sounds as if there's another society operating in secret in Britain, he thought. A society that has animals unique to it. "Right. Go on, then."

"I was sent back to my relatives for the summer, and the conditions were bad. I lost my temper and ran away to London to live on my own instead."

James interrupted him. "Wait--you were sent back to people who'd locked you up and failed to feed you properly, just because of this secret?"

"Yes." Q paused. "To be fair, I stopped trying to tell people about the conditions at home after first year. No one believed me anyway. And I've since learned that a lot of abused kids don't understand they're being abused, at least not in the moment. It was just normal."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," James murmured. 

"It was what it was."

No, James thought. It shouldn't have been what it was. "Still, I can feel sympathy for a lonely boy locked in a bedroom."

"Just so you know that he didn't stay there," Q warned. 

"Understood, Q."

"Right. So I ran away to London, which caused all manner of consternation because my godfather had just escaped from prison to try and find me."

"Back up. Your godfather was a convict?"

"Yes, Sirius Black. You might have heard of him. But he was innocent. He only broke out because he thought I was in danger, and he was looking for me. It turns out he was right, but we couldn't prove his innocence when we finally reconnected at the end of my third year of school."

"Sirius Black. I was in the Navy at that time, in my early 20s. We were posted on alert for Black; there was some idea that he'd be fleeing the country by sea."

"Probably because the prison he escaped from was on a rock in the middle of the North Sea," Q muttered. "At any rate, I was able to threaten my relatives with Sirius when I had to go back that summer, so I actually had time to homework and live a little. But there was unrest building. I went to a major sporting event at the end of August, before school started my fourth year, and at the after-parties, Voldemort's followers appeared to shake things up. No one died, but it was quite terrifying."

James was mentally flipping through his calendar. "What year was this, Q?"

"August 1994." 

"Got it." 

"Voldemort's followers were starting to agitate because there were rumors that he was returning to power. I was entered, without my permission, into a kind of international combat tournament during my fourth year. It was in the last challenge that I and a classmate were kidnapped away from the proceedings to a graveyard, where my classmate was killed and I was forced to participate in the return of Voldemort to power." Absently, Q touched his left arm, and James laid a hand over his. Q looked up, gave a faint smile, then pushed his sleeve back to show him the thin, silvery scar. "He took my blood for a ritual he believed would return him to greatness, then tried to kill me in one-on-one combat. I was no match for him, really, but I managed to escape."

Rituals, psychics, secret society. Voldemort. Sirius Black. James had a healthy suspicion at this point, but opted to let Q continue on. He hoped it did him some good. "I'm glad you escaped."

"So was I, though the cost was high. My Headmaster gathered up the Order of the Phoenix to re-start a counterterrorism effort because the leaders of the secret society didn't believe Voldemort had returned. They didn't believe me, essentially. And spent the next year making my life a living hell in every legal way they could." Q tipped his right hand forward, making a fist and displaying the back of it. "I must not tell lies." The words were carved into his hand, leaving a faint scar. 

"And this was legal?" James questioned. "This is clearly torture of some kind."

"Well, legal or not, it happened. I spend my free time that year teaching others how to defend themselves, only to get caught up in one Voldemort's traps at the end of the year. Sirius came to my rescue, and he died."

"You couldn't catch a break, could you?" 

"Well, the only silver lining in that entire fiasco was that the leaders of the society witnessed Voldemort's return for themselves, so I was finally believed. And I was finally told about the psychic's prediction and how it had basically ruined my life to that point." Q buried his face in James's chest for a moment, catching his breath, a muffled "sorry" emerging from somewhere to the left of James' armpit.

James hauled him up to straddle his lap, then cupped Q's face, a breath away from his own. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said quietly. And kissed him, lightly.

They snogged quietly for a few moments, until James drew back. "I think we're running out of time, Q, if you have to report in."

"There's not much left to tell, really. I spent my sixth year learning about Voldemort and trying not to die. I learned he'd created seven objects that were meant to keep him from dying, and that they all needed to be destroyed before I had a chance of taking out Voldemort himself. My Headmaster was killed at the end of that school year, and I left the school. I only returned the following spring to put an end to the fighting, once and for all. I spent the year I turned 17 on the run, underground, tracking down those objects and destroying them.

"When I finally faced off against Voldemort, there on the grounds of the school, it was with the knowledge that he somehow had made me one of those objects. In order for him to die, I had to die as well. And so I let him kill me."

"What!?" James' strangled exclamation caught Q off guard.

"Well, clearly it didn't take," Q said reasonably. "I had what some call a near-death experience, but I survived, and Voldemort didn't. My world was in shambles, but there were enough good people left who were in on the secret to re-organize. I took a year off to find myself and some inner peace. I was asked to go into law enforcement. I didn't have anything better to do, so I reported to the academy, only to be taken aside and offered a different opportunity."

"Ah," James said, grinning faintly. "I think I recognize this opportunity."

"I'd think you would, yes," Q allowed. "I met with M the next day, and she convinced me to take MI6 up on its offer of a free university education in exchange for five years' service."

"How long ago was that?"

"Twelve years. I started Cambridge at 19 and had two doctorages at 25, then started in Q-branch as a sort of a liaison between those who know about the secret and those who don't. My terms of service are over now, but M offered me the post of Quartermaster in the wake of the bombing. I'd been R for more than a year before that."

"So you're, what, 31 now?"

"Yes, and you're 42."

"Not so huge a gap, then."

"No, not considering how fast I matured."

James settled Q's head against his shoulder, then stroked a hand over his back. "I think I know the secret, Q."

"Give it your best guess, then," Q whispered.

"Magic."


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the worlds of magic and non-magic collide.

Chapter 7

 

Q had hoped James was quick enough to gather the clues, but his easy answer and apparent acceptance were a bit unexpected. "Would that bother you?" he asked quietly, head still tucked into James' broad shoulder.

Jame sighed. "You see a lot of things when you travel as much as I do, and agents are always sent into situations where things aren't quite right. There are usually more plausible explanations, more non-magical explanations, but sometimes, 'magic' is truly the only answer." He paused. "It helps that I'm related, distantly, to the McGonagalls. There have been rumours about my great aunt and her brothers for years, just within the family."

Q took a quick breath. "Skyfall is very near my old boarding school."

James nodded. "It looks condemned to me, but I imagine it's lit up for you."

"Yes."

"Snogging aside, Q, I'd like you to consider me a friend. And I've yet to turn my back on a friend, and I especially wouldn't turn my back on a friend because he has a special gift that I don't," James said quietly. 

Q sighed a little, relieved. "Thanks. Snogging aside, I do consider you a friend. And I'd like to keep it that way. It's ridiculously hard to make and keep friends who don't know anything about the secret, and some days I just feel like my entire life is a revolving door of secrets. I'd like to have one person who's in on everything." He leaned up and back to look at James. "And I trust you."

"You earned my trust when you lay that trail for Silva, Q," James said. "And caught my eye when you diagnosed my car. Romance is notoriously hard for agents. My job means monogamy is not a true possibility, and quick shags are a lot easier. But I'm tired, Q. Tired of meaningless relationships and one-night stands. I need more in my life than that. M's death showed me that. I was lost for a long time after Vesper died--and yes, I'd gathered you knew about that, if you've read the whole of my file--and only the job gave me any satisfaction whatsoever. I took that time off after Turkey to heal in my own way. And one of the conclusions I came to is that I've lost James somewhere under 007. It's time I found him again. And James very much likes Q."

Q smiled slowly before leaning in to kiss James very, very thoroughly.

They came up for air minutes later, when another quiet beep drew their attention. "That's it, then, I've got to go," Q said frustratedly, rubbing hands through messy hair. 

"I'll come with you. It's time I reported back in."

Q stood, and gracefully passed a hand over himself to clean and press his clothes, summoning a fresh cardigan from the closet. James watched bemusedly as his new friend (boyfriend? love interest?) spelled himself into order, and whistled. "That's handy."

"Want me to do you?" Q asked absently, reaching for his tablet.

"Oh, more than you know," a low growl answered him, and Q mentally replayed his question before blushing furiously. 

"That's not what I meant," he backtracked. 

"I know," James chuckled. "But I couldn't resist the opening. Yes, please, if you could freshen me up as quickly as you did yourself, we could be on our way."

Q indicated that James should stand, and once James was standing, Q smirked at him before running his hands over the man's body, a little more than necessary, to clean and freshen the shirt and trousers he stood in. James felt energy move over his skin, electrifying little pulses that made his state of soft arousal heighten. 

"Mmmmm," James hummed. "I can't wait for you to do something like that when we're naked."

Q grinned. "I look forward to it. Jacket and shoes?"

"Yes, please."

Q summoned both, and the men made quick work of getting ready to go. Q then stepped up into James space and put his arms around the man. "Ready to go? Because you're now in the know, I can do this the easy way."

"Easy way?"

James liked the mischievious look he got when the world suddenly squeezed through a tube.

***

When Q set up his temporary office space, he included a warded closet that could be used only by him. He apparated them directly to the spot, ignoring James' wicked grin at the possibilities such a method of transportation made him consider, and laid a hand on the closet door to read the wards. "No one's outside. We can step out and look as if we've been here the whole time."

"Brilliant," James said. "That's exceptionally handy."

Q nodded. "Had a spot like this in the old quarters, too. The old Q helped me set up."

"He was in the know?" 

"He was a non-magical person born into a magical family. It's really because of him that MI6 recognized the need for the non-magical world to have at least some idea of what was going on in the magical world. His sister was a top member of magical law enforcement at one time," Q explained. "He was the only one here to know my true identity besides the old M. Mallory knows nothing about who I truly am, only that I have magic and I'm his contact with the magical world."

"I'd gathered you were important to the magical world," James said. "Otherwise there's no real reason to hide here, is there?"

"True enough." The pair stepped out of the closet together--James' eyes twinkled in a knowing way as they did so, though Q didn't appear to catch the joke--and strode toward the lift on the far wall that would take them to M's office. "Now that we have a 00 in the know, it's quite likely you'll be employed in tandem with me to deal with the occasional special problems that come up. And yes, that's the code around here."

"Got it," James said. "Not my first go-round with espionage, Q."

"I know, I know," Q assured him. "Just, I'm not sure how to play this with M. There's something about him that just sort of irks me."

"He's not her," James affirmed. "He has big shoes to fill, and while I'm sure he's capable, it's a rough hole to fill just now."

"I'm sure that's part of it," Q acknowledged as they made their way off the lift. Q greeted Eve Moneypenny, at her desk, while James smiled at her. 

"M is expecting me, but I'm sure he won't mind if 007 reports in as well, since he's here," Q said smoothly.

"Of course, Q. James, it's good to see you. I'll let him know you're here," Moneypenny said, before calling into M's office, getting the approval, and waving them through. "Off you go then."

"Thanks," the pair said, almost in unison, shooting her simultaneous grins as they did so before stepping through M's office doors.

"Oh, dear," Moneypenny said out loud. "That's going to be trouble."

***

M was not amused to see Q and 007 report together. "Q, did you not understand the nature of the message I sent you?" he asked icily. 

Q's green eyes hardened. "007 had just arrived when the message was received. I brought him with me so he could report in, as you requested, M. He can do so, and then you can share your news with me."

"Very well. 007, in your absence, we assigned you four weeks' administrative leave to manage the events of Skyfall. Since you've been absent three of those weeks, you should know you have one more week of paid leave to take before you'll be asked to retest for your position."

"Understood, sir."

"Dismissed."

"Sir." In the office, James had clearly assumed his role as 007. He glanced briefly at Q before stepping out, going no further than Eve's waiting area.

"Now that he's dealt with, Q, why weren't you here an hour ago, when I first messaged you?"

"Sir, what I do on my downtime is my own business. An hour is a reasonable response time."

"For someone who's non-magical. I expect more from you."

Q gave M a hard look. "That's unacceptable. I'm your contact, not your stooge. Holding me to a higher standard because of an accident of birth is base racism, and I will be reporting you should this incident be repeated."

M backed off. "Come again?"

"I am not an agent, and I do not use magic as part of my job description. I am the Quartermaster, and I do that job. Should you continue to call attention to my special skill set, you will be replaced, M, and made to forget you ever knew about it. Consider this your one warning."

M sat down. "I seem to have been laboring under a misassumption."

"And that would be?"

M took a deep breath. "I assumed you were our in-house wizard, something like another tool in our armoury."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Q asked. "I'm the Quartermaster. There's no such thing as an official 'in-house wizard'. It's that kind of bollocks that led to the divisions between our worlds in the first place. We are not tools to be used and discarded because of an innate ability we have. We are people, with a culture and society all of our own. You've been informed about magic because in your position as head of MI6, you need to be aware when magic is involved in the missions MI6 assigns. It's my job to make sure our non-magical agents are armed with all the tools they need to complete their missions, and if those missions require a tool that will render magic inert so the mission can be completed, I provide that. But I'm not your weapon. I won't be your weapon. Is that clear?"

M sat back and folded his hands on his desk. "Clear, Q. And I apologize."

"As your Quartermaster who happens to know about magic, what is the 'special problem' that concerned you enough to call me in for an analysis?"

M cleared his throat. "We received intelligence that indicates a terrorist cell in Egypt, with ties to Britain, may be run by a magic-user."

"Evidence?"

M pushed a tablet to the edge of his desk, where Q picked it up and glanced at the image of what appeared to be a pipe-bomb. "An agent sent that here. It appears to be an ordinary pipe bomb, but it glows, and none of his tools and scanners were effective in discovering why it glows. The agent used one of your dampeners on it, because he recognized that it was unusual, and he took a shot that the dampener might work. It did, so he sent it on for further analysis. The agent is infiltrating the group and is running into other objects, weapons that seem to have similar properties. I brought you in because it looks like they're building up into some kind of massive attack, and we have no idea what their target might be."

Q studied the images. "Is the object in Q-branch?"

"Yes. It came in about midnight. I was contacted, determined the threat level, and sent for you."

Q nodded. "This definitely falls into the category of something I need to know. For that matter, magical law enforcement needs notified, too."

M cleared his throat. "Is that something I do, or something you do?"

"The previous M handled all direct DMLE contact. The name of the head there is Kingsley Shacklebolt. He should have been informed about your promotion when it occurred, but I don't actually know if that happened." Q paused in his review of the current intelligence. "How were you informed about magic?"

"A letter appeared to me when I sat in this chair for the first time, explaining the existence of magic and the need for secrecy, and noting that the Quartermaster could answer my questions, as he had magic. It was in the old M's handwriting."

"That's it?" Q frowned. "Sir, you should have received a personal visit from Shacklebolt. No wonder you were having problems understanding my role here."

M frowned in his turn. "Do you think there's a problem?"

Q finished uploading the intelligence on M's tablet to his own, and returned the device to M. "I don't know, but this kind of break down in communication between our worlds is both troubling and troublesome. With your permission, sir, I'd like to contact Shacklebolt for the personal meeting you should have had. The three of us can sit down and discuss this and any questions you might have."

"Granted, Q. And again, I apologize for my assumptions. I look forward to a better working relationship in the future."

"As do I."

***

James listened in on the conversation, expression stoic as he killed time in Moneypenny's office, waiting for Q. Inwardly, he cheered when Q's icy denouncement of M's attitude made the man back down to reasonableness. The new intelligence about a potential active magical terrorist cell, however, didn't sound good at all.

When Q stepped out of M's office, James stood. "Ready to go, Quartermaster?"

"Yes, 007. Would you please accompany me on a bit of an errand?"

"My pleasure."

Eve watched them go. "Later, boys. Stay out of trouble," she called.

James smirked as he turned back. "Always."

"Yeah, right," she muttered at their backs.


	9. Chapter 8: New faces, old faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Q remembers how to be Harry.

Chapter 8

Q glanced at his watch. It was just short of 5 a.m., and the skeletal night crew would be starting morning reports before the day compliment arrived. He led James back to the kitchenette at Q-branch, stepping behind the shielded glass walls and pointing to the dead spot in the corner that led discreetly out. "Expecto Patronum," he intoned, and his miniature stag appeared. "Find Kingsley Shacklebolt and tell him an urgent meeting is requested." The stag bowed, and disappeared into the wall. 

"Impressive," James said. "Why this spot?"

"There's a tunnel system here that assures no one non-magical will see my patronus as it slips toward Kingsley. If he's available, we should get a response fairly quickly," Q replied. "Tea?" He went for the cupboard, switching on the electric kettle as he did so, and dug out the Earl Grey and a strainer.

"Thanks," James agreed. "Need a hand?"

"No, I've got this." 

James watched him for a moment in silence, then quietly asked, "Why didn't you tell M I knew about magic?"

Q shrugged. "He doesn't need to know that yet. There's something dicey going on, and I'd rather wait and see what it is first." He handed a fresh mug to James and took a swallow of his own. "There are a few warded spaces here in Q-branch that I've set up for communications, transport, and R&D. This shielded corner is one, the most convenient to my office for necessary magical communication. Electronics don't work well with magic, though I've invented a few devices that take advantage of that for the field."

"Your dampeners?" James asked. 

"Yes. They're magical devices themselves that sort of initiate a barrier between electronics and magic so that each works. I've got others that will allow electronics to work in a magical environment and some that will shield from magic, too. It depends on the mission. They're all suitably disguised."

"Is this why you're cranky about losing tech?" James asked. 

"Among other reasons. I really don't want those dampeners falling into magical hands."

"I see."

A snow leopard burst out of the wall in Q's corner. "Meet me at Hogwarts, ten minutes." It faded as Q frowned. 

"Hogwarts?"

"My old boarding school in Scotland." Q set his tea down. "Fancy a trip with me?"

"Why not?"

Q led them back to the warded closet, stepped through, and wrappd his arms around James again. "I could really get used to this," Jame murmured to him, as they were squeezed through a tube.

They landed at the gates of Hogwarts, and Q recognized the signs of a full lockdown. "This, this, is really not good. Not good at all." He pointed toward the castle. "EXPECTO PATRONUM." The full intonation allowed the massive buck to materialize and trot towards Q. "Let them know I'm at the gate, please." Prongs nodded, nudged him, and looked quizzically at James. "A friend." A rolling snort from the patronus caused Q to roll his eyes. "Go on, then, Prongs."

"Is he sentient?" James asked curiously.

"Mm, no, not really. He's the embodiment of my happiest memories, the physical representation of my father's animal form. He's also got my father's personality, it appears. Somehow he knows you're not just my friend."

"Am I not?" 

Q turned back to James and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "No, you're more than that." James kissed him back, and they spent a few minutes pleasantly snogging while waiting for company at the gates, still alert, but seeing no reason not to indulge.

"You really know how to make an entrance, don't you, Mr. Potter?" The dark silky voice of his former Potions professor, underlaid with the husk of a throat that had undergone magical repair, called Q's attention away from James. Shocked, Q froze for a moment at the sight of the man, whom he had thought dead.

"Q?" James whispered quietly, touching his arm to draw his attention back to him. "Who is this?"

"A man I thought to be dead," Q said flatly. 

"Clearly, I live," Severus Snape observed. "As you would have known, had you remained in the magical world."

"How?"

"It's rather a long, boring, story involving anti-venom, frantic house elves, and a three-year long magical coma," Snape said. "I'm only here now because Minerva called for me."

Q shook off his shock, then narrowed his eyes. "What were your last words to me?"

"You have your mother's eyes," Snape said quietly. "And you do."

Tears sprung to those very same eyes, though a hug was decidedly not in the offing. "I'm glad to see you, sir."

"An introduction, then, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, yes." Q scrubbed his hand over his face, then turned to James. "James, this is an old friend of my mother's, my former Potions professor, Severus Snape." He turned back to Snape. "Professor, this is James Bond, a colleague and..." He looked to James enquiringly.

"Partner," James said decisively, taking Q's hand and squeezing it gently. 

He received a blinding smile for his effort. "Partner, then."

"I see," Snape narrowed his eyes at James, as if to assess the man. "Recently, I assume, judging by the byplay."

"Very."

Snape shook his head. "But he can be trusted?"

"Absolutely."

"You have ever had good instincts, Mr. Potter, so I shall trust them as well. Welcome, Mr. Bond, to Hogwarts." Snape opened the gate, raised his wand, and intoned, "Magical Revelium," directing the beam to Bond. At once, Bond lit up, and as the glow faded, he blinked.

"What was that?" Q asked. 

"I gave him the ability to see what every witch, wizard or squib could see," Snape said. "It's temporary, but we use it when a muggleborn's parents need to see the school. Or the Leaky."

"How long does it last?" 

"A week, give or take, depending upon the strength of the caster."

"So, James, expect a little more than week, as Professor Snape is an exceptional wizard," Q said, turning to his partner.

James looked up in awe, stepping through the gates at Snape's directive. "Well, it certainly doesn't look condemned any longer."

"Excellent," Q said. "James grew up near here, Professor."

"Bond, you said?" Snape queried. "It wouldn't be Skyfall, would it?"

"Yes, though there's not much of it left since the incident a few weeks ago," James commented.

"That's what we're partially here to chat with Kingsley about, sir. Matters of national security changed hands three weeks ago, and yet there's been no contact with the DMLE. It needs rectifying," Q explained. 

"We've been dealing with national security matters ourselves," Snape commented. "In fact, you'll likely need to present your wand for weighing at the doors."

Q stopped short. "I don't have my wand with me."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Your arrogance is astonishing. However did you expect to go back into the magical world without your wand? And without your wand, might I ask, how did you expect to perform magic?"

Q squirmed a little bit, while James looked at him inquisitively. "I don't actually need one," Q mumbled. 

"Could you please repeat that, Mr. Potter?" Snape said politely, with a hint of danger in his dark tones. 

"I gather that's not usual?" James asked.

"No, it's not," Snape replied, and refocused on his former student, who was now visibly vibrating with tension. "Since when have you not needed a wand to perform magic?"

The answer was muttered toward the ground, and neither man heard it. James, however, stepped up and put his arm around Q. "I doubt the answer is as dreadful as all that, Q," he said. "And I'm sure the professor won't share what you're about to tell us without your permission, if that's the trouble."

Snape obediently took up the cue, and his wand, and intoned, "I, Severus Tobias Snape, swear on my magic not to reveal what Harry James Potter is about to tell me to anyone without his permission, so mote it be." A crack of light sealed the vow, and Q looked up. 

"I haven't needed to use a wand for most magic since the final battle, sir," Q said quietly. "I can channel it through my hands, for the most part. And in my current profession, I really don't need to use it that much."

"You continue to astonish, Mr. Potter." Snape thought for a second. "You are the master of the Elder Wand, are you not?"

"How did you know that, sir?"

"Discussion of the wand was a hot topic around here after Voldemort's demise, and I read the old Prophets when I came out of my coma," Snape explained. "No one seems to know what you did with it, however."

"It rests in Dumbledore's tomb, with him, sir."

"Call it to you."

Q stepped back from James and held out a hand. "Accio Elder Wand." A snap, and the wand appeared in Q's hand with a shower of sparks. "I hate when it does that."

"You are a powerful wizard, Mr. Potter," Snape reminded him. "As far as we know, you're the most powerful wizard alive today. It doesn't hurt for those in the magical world to be reminded of that fact, especially now."

"What's going on?" he asked.

"That, Mr. Potter, is an excellent question." Snape regarded him for a moment. "Mr. Bond calls you Q. Is he aware of your true identity?"

"'He' is right here," James said, stepping back up to wrap an arm around Q's waist. "And in our profession, truth is a precious commodity. To me, in our world, he is Q. Though I gather your birth name is Harry?"

"Yes."

"What do you prefer to be called, Q?"

He took a deep breath. "While in the magical world, James, you should call me Harry. It's what's expected. And will keep my other identity a secret here."

"Fair enough," James acknowledged, then leant in, his lips against the shell of Harry's ear, and growled out, "Harry."

The full-body shiver he got in return delighted him, but the presence of the professor kept them both from doing anything else. Snape rolled his eyes. "Come along, then, Mr. Bond, Mr. Potter."

They tramped up the walk to the front gates, where Harry was obliged to present his newly reacquired wand for weighing and James was identified as a legally knowledgable muggle. ("I really don't like that term," James whispered into Harry's ear as they walked in the hall. "Neither do I," Harry responded.)

"Where will we be meeting Kingsley and Minerva, Professor?" Harry asked. 

"The Headmistress's office," Snape replied, leading the way. It was still extraordinarily early in the morning, and there were no students in the Great Hall as they passed through. Harry noticed James taking in everything, his senses on full alert as they scaled the stairs two the second level and found their way to the gargoyle entrance.

Snape muttered a password, and the trio stepped up on to the rotating stairs to the office. Harry took James' hand, interlacing their fingers, before stepping into Minerva's office to face a crowd of people he hadn't seen in years.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond meets the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Chapter 9.

"This was unexpected," Harry said slowly, looking from face to face. "I asked to meet with Kingsley."

"And I'm here," the tall, dark form of the head of the DMLE stepped forward. "It's good to see you, Harry."

"And you." Harry looked around the room to spy nearly all the living members of the former Order of the Phoenix. "What's all this?"

"We've been readying the Order in response to new Dark threat," Kingsley said. "Your stag interrupted our discussion about whether to contact you or not."

"As I said, Mr. Potter, you know how to make an entrance," Snape commented.

"Harry, it's good to see you, dear," Molly Weasley stood and made her way over to press a kiss on each of his cheeks and look into his eyes. "You're looking a bit peaky. You must come by and let me feed you."

"I'll try, Molly," Harry murmured to her. "I've been quite busy."

"Never too busy for family, dear," she admonished, drawing his face down to press a kiss to his forehead before turning to James. "And who is this nice young man?" 

Harry inwardly snorted then met James' eyes with a roll of his own. James twinkled at being called a 'nice young man,' but obligingly withdrew his hand from Harry's to offer it to Molly. "Bond, ma'am. James Bond."

"Welcome, Mr. Bond," Molly said prettily, as James drew her hand to his lips to kiss the knuckles. 

"James, please."

"I like him, Harry." Molly smiled. "Bring him with you."

"Of course, Molly." Harry smiled back, then looked round the room. "Everyone, this is James Bond, my colleague and partner. James, this is the Order of the Phoenix. The lovely lady whose hand you're still holding is Molly Weasley, matriarch of the Weasley family. All the redheads in the room belong to her in some fashion." Harry raised a hand to point to several people in a row. "Her sons, Ron, Charlie, George, Percy, and Bill, and her daughter, Ginny, along with her husband, Arthur." They each waved in turn, Ginny adding a bit of a raised eyebrow and a wink at James. James raised an eyebrow back and glanced at his partner who flushed becomingly. 

"If nothing's changed, the ladies next to them are their significant others, Hermione Granger-Weasley, Angelina Weasley, Audrey Weasley, and Fleur Weasley. I'm afraid I don't know the gentleman next to Charlie."

"Georges Giurgiu, Mr. Potter. Charlie's partner."

"Nice to meet you, Georges," Harry said. "Coming round the other side, we have Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott --"

"Longbottom, Harry," the lady in question corrected him. 

"Ah, congratulations, Hannah. And Neville, too, of course. Followed by Luna Lovegood, Susan Bones, Dean Thomas, Andromeda Tonks, Professor Pomona Sprout, Professor Filius Flitwick and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall."

"Headmistress, I believe you knew my parents, the Bonds of Skyfall," James enquired.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Bond. Your mother was my cousin on my father's side," Minerva said. "It's good to see you. When last I met you, you were running about Skyfall with a sticky face and dirty knees."

"Ah, the joys of being a child," Flitwick commented.

"No, I do believe that was..."

"Probably enough," James said firmly, twinkling in Harry's direction. Harry grinned back. 

"Well, then, Mr. Potter, Mr. Bond, please have a seat." Minerva raised her wand to conjure two more chairs and men pulled them up. "We were just discussing the threat, and whether you should be informed, Mr. Potter, when Kingsley received your request for an urgent meeting."

"Yes," Harry said. "I can't say what I need to speak with Kingsley about specifically, because of national security, but I can say that there's been a recent change of leadership where I work, and it's important that our new leader be better informed about the magical world."

"Harry, most of the room is now aware that you work in intelligence," Kingsley said solemnly. "It was necessary to the discussion about whether to inform you or not about the new Dark threat. From what we can gather, the group that's rising is planning to blow the Statute of Secrecy and take over the muggle world, starting here in Britain."

"Why here?" Harry asked.

"We're viewed as weak, still in recovery after the last Wizarding War, and unable to put up much of a fight, especially with your disappearance," Hermione explained. "Your paperwork in the Ministry shows that you're still alive, but you're not a part of the magical world any longer, as far as the threat is concerned, so they appear to think we're vulnerable here."

"No more vulnerable than any other magical government without me," Harry responded. "I'm only one man, after all."

"And quite possibly the most powerful wizard alive," Snape reminded him. "While our government is now relatively stable, as are other magical governments and the International Confederation of Wizards, our population is low due to our losses. We haven't recovered numbers quickly enough to have a strong fighting force. Not to mention, there's still infighting among us, between various factions left over from the last war."

"These things add up, Mr. Potter," Minerva explained. "We were just discussing whether asking you to make a public magical appearance would do any good toward strengthening our position."

"I don't see how it would," Harry admitted. "I'm still only one man."

"You're also a symbol, whether you like or not, Harry," Luna said dreamily. "A rallying point. Perhaps a way to turn them away from Britain."

"And have them do what? Blow up France?"

James interjected with a question. "Harry, do you think this is the group responsible for the tech recovered by our agent in Egypt?"

Harry pulled his tablet out of the air again, automatically adding a dampening shield so his electronics would work, and reviewed the schema that was being generated by the other muggleborn wizard in Q branch, orders he'd texted from M's office. "If not, there are two groups, and neither means us well," he said absently, spinning through the sketches left in his files."

"Um, Harry?" Hermione asked timidly.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Is that a computer of some sort?"

"High-end tablet of my design, actually," he responded, flashing through files and reviewing relevant reports at speed.

"But electronics don't work in Hogwarts," she pointed out.

James snorted. "Q's do. I mean, Harry's do. All the non-magicals he works with--none of whom have any idea that he has magic, by the way--believe him to be a miracle worker of some kind with machines."

"Yes, well, combining science and magic has been my thing for the last several years," Harry muttered again, studying a picture of the pipe bomb from a different angle.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Harry, may I tell them?"

Harry looked up blankly, then his face cleared. "Right. I made you vow, didn't I? Yes, go ahead, 'Mione. I'll be another minute looking at this intel.

Magic accepted the directive, and Hermione relaxed. "Harry has degrees from Cambridge University in physics and engineering. He attended uni for six years after his return to London and earned doctorates in both. I watched him graduate. Just understand that he's got more masteries in Muggle sciences than nearly anyone."

"Shocked her, too, that I had a brain," Harry muttered, before shrugging. "Screw it." He popped the image up on the screen, grabbed it with magic-charged hands, and flung it into the air to display in 3-D. "This is what the group in Egypt has. We're analyzing it now. They've got more, but our agent was able to get this one out to me by using one of the dampening devices I've invented."

"Could you get more of these dampening devices?" Bill Weasley asked. "If they could disable these things, that would be quick, temporary fix to the imminent crisis."

"Yes, but they're propietary," Harry said to blank looks from across the room. "I mean, they belong to the organization I work for, not me. You'd have to work with us to get access to them."

"Harry," James said. "M will definitely agree to a joint mission in the interests of national security, both to eliminate the threat and to familiarize himself with the magical world. He doesn't care to be ignorant, nor to be in need of the dressing down you gave him today."

Harry shrugged. "He'll get more of the same if he expects a trained pet wizard, won't he?"

Kingsley frowned. "Him? M is a woman."

James shook his head. "The previous M was a woman. She was killed at Skyfall three weeks ago, and a new M took her place. It appears he knows nothing about the magical world, and all he received was a letter that appeared in her handwriting when he sat at her desk."

"This is what you meant by a change in leadership?" Kingsley asked Harry.

"Yes," Harry said, looking up from his tablet. "He only knows about magic, and that I have it. Why was he not better informed when he took over?"

"I don't know," Kingsley admitted. "There's no protocol for that particular connection, as it started with the previous M. We didn't have time to plan for her retirement."

"It's just as well she thought ahead enough to have a letter charmed for her," Harry mused, "though I do wonder who set that up."

"It indicates a security breach, at most," James said, "and a classified informed person, at best."

"As far as I am aware, there are only two wizards associated with our division, James, and I'm one of them. The other works in branch with me--I've been bringing him along to take over my old tech projects, to give me time to manage the branch. Any others that might be in our division would have been known to the previous M, but it's not like there's a secret handshake or something." Harry waved that off a bit. "For all I know, there are others who simply choose to keep quiet about their magic because they're living muggle."

"That happens quite a lot, actually," Kingsley observed. "Often muggleborns, in particular, will go muggle and hide themselves from the magical world. There was an especially large exodus when you were in your teens, Harry, and Voldemort was rising back up to power."

"So best likely explanation is that previous M knew about another wizard in-house who could charm the letter for her in my absence, as I was frightfully busy during the whole Skyfall debacle, trying to help James capture the threat." Harry looked back at James. "By the way, I fixed your Aston. It's waiting in my warded lab. You'll have to wait a few more months for it, though, because it's not possible for it to have been restored the non-magical way that quickly."

James grinned, quick and bright, and pressed a kiss to Harry's lips. "Thank you."

Snape sneered lightly. "Perhaps now is not the time for such displays, gentlemen."

"Oh, let the boys be, Severus," Molly exclaimed. "It's sweet."

"As sugar," Ginny said, eying the pair with undisguised interest.

Harry kissed back, then leaned back and called the 3-D image back down. "Down, Ginny. Mine."

Ginny pouted. "That's not what you said when --"

"Right," Harry interrupted, to James' amusement. "So, Kingsley, will you join me and the new M for lunch today? You can establish your new communication needs and introduce yourselves. I'll also have a cell phone you can use to reach M or myself, equipped with a magic dampener."

"Yes, of course, Harry. Noon at the Leaky?"

"Done." Harry texted M, got confirmation, then looked up. "We're set. James, will you join us? It's quite likely we'll need your missions expertise." 

"Of course."

"Professor," Harry turned to address Snape, "you have experience with muggles, do you not?"

"You know I do, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled. 

"Could you join us as well? You are best equipped for this kind of operation, if you're up for it," Harry asked earnestly. 

"If you'd like. I've been bored lately, anyway," Snape said.

"Excellent. The rest of you, stay alert, but let us handle this. We'll let you know if we need your help," Harry said, looking over the crowd of old friends.

There was a murmur of agreement as Minerva stood up. "The elves will start serving breakfast in the Great Hall shortly. I invite you to take part before you leave. Your children will be informed and brought to you."

"Children?" Harry asked. He really had been out of the loop.

"Yes, 'arry," Fleur said softly. "Our Victoire and your godson, Teddy, started classes last fall 'ere at 'ogwarts, but there are others whom we brought with to sleep through the meeting."

Hermione stood and pulled Harry up for a hug. "Rose and Hugo are 5 and 3," she said briskly. "And George and Angelina have two, and Percy and Audrey have two. Luna's expecting."

"Luna!" Harry called out. "When are you due?" 

Luna stood and walked over to Harry calmly. "June, Harry. Mr. Bond, it's good to meet you."

"And you, Ms. Lovegood."

"It's Scamander now, actually," Luna corrected him. "I just didn't want to be rude while you were introducing everyone, Harry."

"Congratulations, Luna," Harry said, hugging her tightly. "I missed you."

"You should come and see us more often, Harry," Luna admonished gently. "You know how the wrackspurts get around you when you don't."

Harry laughed, a rich and full sound that made James grin, too. "I do, Luna. I'll send you a cell phone."

"Excellent." Luna kissed his cheek and left the office. Harry exchanged greetings and hugs with nearly everyone as they filtered out, leaving only Harry, James, Minerva, Snape and Ginny.

"So we're not going to share this time, darling?" Ginny asked with a nudge and a wink, extending a hand to James. 

James raised an eyebrow in question to Harry. "Something I should know, dear?"

Harry flushed. "Ginny and I were an item in school, and from time to time, over the years ..." 

"Last time was two years ago, actually. You got some promotion at work and we celebrated all night, Harry, my boyfriend, and I. I don't think he gets out much now, James," Ginny said cheekily.

James smiled at her. "We're a very new couple, Ginny, and I'd like to keep him all to myself at the moment."

"Probably wise," Ginny sighed. "Oh, well. It's good to see you, Harry. Nice to meet you, James." She kissed them each on a cheek and sauntered out the door. 

Snape sneered lightly. "I think that was more information than I certainly needed to know."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck absently. "Probably. She's got no discretion, which is one reason we didn't last to begin with."

"Whereas I," James intoned, pressing himself along Harry from behind, "am the soul of discretion." He bit, very lightly, on Harry's neck, enjoying the shiver.

"When you want to be, yes," Harry said huskily.

"James," Minerva said sharply. "Stop molesting Mr. Potter for a moment, if you would. I'd like to know what happened to Skyfall, and if you'd like help repairing it."


	11. Chapter 10: Old memories, new memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry catches up.

Chapter 10.

"James," Harry snorted. "This is the only time I've ever been caught out for inappropriate behavior of a romantic nature in this school, ever. I hope you're proud."

As he had hoped, the momentary stiff response James had to Minerva's enquiry regarding Skyfall faded with the joke, and James' twinkle came back. "Inappropriate behavior of a romantic nature was one of my specialties in school, Harry," he purred.

"Yes, well," Minerva interjected. "Harry was not known for youthful indiscretions while here, James, and I know very well that you cut quite a figure among the youth in the district before being sent off to school yourself. I can only imagine that you're doing a fine job corrupting young Mr. Potter."

"Oh, would you like to corrupt me, James?" Harry asked huskily, turning to press himself chest-to-chest.

"Don't answer that, Mr. Bond," Snape interrupted. "I'm sure we all know the answer, and I've learned entirely too much about Mr. Potter this morning. Perhaps the time would be more productive should we address Minerva's question over breakfast."

Harry rubbed his nose against James' in a gesture of affection. "I could eat."

"As could I," James admitted. "We were up entirely too early."

With a quick kiss, the pair parted, and the four of them headed to the Great Hall to eat.

***

Students had begun to trickle in to the Great Hall, and Harry and James joined the Weasleys at the Gryffindor table. 

"This was my house when I was in school," Harry explained. "I've spent a lot of time at this table."

James looked around, taking in the enchanted ceiling and the overall splendor of the space. "It's quite impressive," he said.

"Has Harry told you anything about himself, Mr. Bond?" Hermione asked. "I know the nature of your work means your identities and backgrounds could be concealed from each other, with the best of intentions."

James looked around at her. "He imparted the overview of his story to me earlier today."

"Then perhaps you'll be interested in knowing that this Hall is where the very final battle for magical Britain took place," Hermione said. 

Harry looked up from where he was busily buttering a scone. "I don't mind you sharing this, Hermione, but I would ask that you allow me to share myself with my partner in my own time."

Hermione gave him a look. "You never give yourself enough credit, Harry."

James scented a story. "I know that he took out Voldemort in the final battle here at the school."

Hermione pointed to a spot just in front of the head table, not quite centered to it. "Voldemort was destroyed right there."

"I forbade them from putting up a monument on the spot," Harry said calmly, passing a platter of bacon to James. "It would break the traffic flow there."

"You just don't want any more attention called to it," Hermione accused.

"And why would I?" Harry's voice started to chill down, until James could recognize the cold of mission mode. "I don't regret that monster's death, but I don't need the notoriety or recognition that came along with my ending of him. I particularly don't need the reminder over breakfast, thank you."

James placed a hand on Harry's thigh and squeezed lightly. Hermione looked stricken. And Ron simply turned from where he was feeding Hugo bites of fruit and asked, "Alright, mate?"

"Fine, thanks, Ron." Harry took another bite of scone, and James looked around the table, spotting a young boy with turquoise hair staring intently in his direction. James nudged Harry.

"Someone you know?" 

Harry looked down the table and grinned. "Oi! Teddy Lupin, get down here and have breakfast with your godfather!"

Teddy rushed down. "I wasn't sure it was you, Harry! I've never seen you here at Hogwarts."

"No, but you did just see me at Christmas. I can't have changed all that much," Harry chided. "Let me introduce you to my friend James."

James held out his hand for a rather enthusiastic handshake. "Nice to meet you, James. Are you Harry's boyfriend? Because he really needs a boyfriend. Grandma said so, and I have to say I think she's probably right. And you look like a nice man. You have really blue eyes. Harry, do you like really blue eyes? Because if you do, you should totally --"

James cracked up as Harry shushed the ramblings of his godson. "Teddy!" Harry interrupted. "Yes, James is my boyfriend, though we prefer the term partner, and yes, I like his really blue eyes. And that's all I've got to say on that subject just now. What classes do you have this morning?" 

"Smooth subject change, Harry," James murmured quietly, still grinning.

"Hush, you," Harry replied just as quietly, as he listened to Teddy's recital of his morning schedule. 

The hall filled up with still more sleepy students as the members of the Order James met earlier finished up their own breakfasts, said their goodbyes, and herded their children out the front door past the security wizard. All was fairly jolly until Minerva came back, with Snape, and asked again about Skyfall.

Harry took James' hand as James explained the destruction of the old house and the grounds, and the death of a superior he'd considered more than a mentor. "Harry helped lead the criminal right to me so I could take care of him. He's one of the most extraordinary people I've ever met, and very good at what he does."

Harry pinked a bit at the praise. "You just like me because I've fixed your Aston Martin."

"That, too," James said, smiling at him. 

Minerva cleared her throat. "I would offer my assistance, James, in restoring the house and grounds, if you think that's something you'd like."

"I've not given it a lot of thought, Minerva," James admitted. "I've been rather caught up in other things."

Snape leaned forward, across the table, to look James in the eye, taking his measure. "Alcohol and women are certainly important things to be caught up in."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "We were not a couple over the last three weeks. James was grieving. He was entitled to do so however he needed to. And last I checked, even passive Legilimency was illegal."

James looked at Harry. "I take it Legilimency is a kind of mind reading?"

"A bit more than that, and certainly more exact." Harry took a deep breath. "Professor, you witnessed our transition from 'wanting' to 'becoming' a couple outside. I will not condemn my partner for actions that took place before that decision was made."

Snape studied him. "You will excuse me if I'm concerned about your continued innocence in worldly matters?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm 31 years old, Snape. I've had more than my fair share of alcohol and women. And men, for that matter. I'm hardly an innocent."

"But to my knowledge, you have yet to give your heart," Snape observed. "Forgive me for being concerned at your sudden decision to risk it on a man who is decidedly not innocent."

"I believe," James said coolly. "That's a discussion for Harry and I. And if you assume he knows nothing about me and my past, you're a fool. He knows more about me than anyone currently living, and that includes the fact that my loyalty, once given, is absolute. He has mine. And I will not betray it."

"Scotsman and true," Minerva approved.

Harry gave a half-smile. "He has my loyalty as well, sir. And I'm glad for a chance for us to explore the attraction we have to each other as people."

Snape nodded. "Fair enough." He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. "Have you seen one of these, Mr. Bond?" He demonstrated faded the skull and snake tattoo on his left forearm.

James studied the mark. "Not recently. I did see that mark once, back when I was in the Navy."

"Really?" Harry asked. "How?"

"I told you, Harry, I was at sea when Sirius Black escaped and we were put on alert. He wasn't the only one who tried to escape that rock. We rescued one out of the water of the coast, and redelivered him to the authorities. He had that mark, and I presume he ended up back in the prison," James said. 

"Dolohov," Snape muttered. "He tried to escape that year, too, after Black had made it clear it could be done. The Dark Lord freed him the following year." Snape shook that off. "If you see a mark such as this, placed in this manner, be aware that the person bearing it was aligned with the late Dark Lord and his ilk."

James raised an eyebrow. "You wear the mark."

"I do. I joined him as an impressionable youth, and regretted it," Snape explained. "He killed the woman I loved, along with her husband, and orphaned their young son, the man you see next you now. In that instant, he lost my loyalty, and I worked to undermine him from that point forward."

"You were a spy," James realized.

"Yes. I played both sides, and did my part so well, that the Light truly believed I was part of the Dark in the end. If not for the well-timed intervention of certain friends, I'd likely be on that rock of a prison right now. Or dead."

"From the time Voldemort killed my mother, the Professor was on one side, James. Mine." Harry raised his cup of tea and tipped it in the Professor's direction. "I'm very happy to see you alive and well and taking nourishment this morning, Professor. If I haven't said that yet."

"It's good to see you, as well, brat. Wherever did you get the idea to go to muggle university?"

"Ah, well, I was recruited into British non-magical intelligence. Five years' service in exchange for a free university education. I took shameless advantage of it."

Snape smiled briefly. It looked odd, but right, Harry thought. "I wondered if you had any of your Evans grandparents in you," he commented.

"What do you mean, sir?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Has no one told you anything about your Evans roots? Surely Petunia ... wait. What am I thinking? Tuney would rather eat dung than tell you anything."

Harry quirked a smile. "I forgot you knew her as a child."

"I did, and a more jealous, spiteful person I never met. Had I known you were going to her, I would have endeavored to do something for you. I doubt I could have talked the Headmaster into letting you go elsewhere, but I could have taken you out to tell you about your mother, at the very least." Snape looked pained, but sighed deeply and continued. "Be that as it may, your grandfather Evans was geothermal engineer, and your grandmother a maths teacher. I am very glad your having magic did not preclude you from using the other parts of your brain, Mr. Potter."

"Harry." Harry corrected softly. "It's more than time you used my first name, sir."

Snape looked up and into green eyes, gauging sincerity. "Of course, Harry. You may call me Severus."

"Lily would be proud, boys," Minerva said, smiling at them both. 

***

They left the subject of Skyfall untouched, for now, as James truly didn't know what he wanted to do with the estate. He felt a bit raw, still, but he appreciated knowing he could have a bit of magical help if he wanted to clean the place up.

He and Harry stepped out from the front gates at 8 a.m., ready to head back to MI6. Snape walked them out. 

"We'll see you at the Leaky at noon, sir. Please dress muggle. We'll likely take the meeting out from there," Harry said.

"As you wish, Harry. And how shall I address you in this meeting?"

"I'm the Quartermaster, Professor. Please call me Q."


	12. Chapter 11: Making Magical Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which tentative connections are forged.

Chapter 11

 

After a quick trip back to his warded MI6 closet, Harry stepped away from James, smiled at him, and said, “And now I’m Q. Please help me avoid dissociative identity disorder, will you?”

James laughed. “As long as you know who you are, you’ll be fine.” He stretched. “Well, I’m on leave. I have no equipment to return, Quartermaster. Do you need anything else from me?” 

“Oh, many things, most of them inappropriate for work,” Q quipped. “However, I need to go and check on 004--R is running her mission right now--and check new mission specs, as well as see what toys I have in my arsenal for a magical mission abroad. Meet me at M’s office at 11:30 and we’ll get set for our lunch meeting. I’ll do a little research first.”

“Sounds good,” James said. “I need to start looking around at flats or something. I’ve been staying at hotels, but that gets old fast.”

“Your things are in storage here, James,” Q said. “Feel free to use mine as a base while you’re looking. You know how to pick the locks. And the wards will recognize you.”

“You’ve got wards?”

“Of course I do. You’re right about the child-with-a-lock-pick thing. They’re intention-based.”

“Meaning?” 

“If you’d intended me harm, you would have been bounced to a cell at the Ministry of Magic for interrogation,” Q grinned at him. “I’d have been alerted, and I’d probably have checked to see who it was at some point. Maybe. If I was feeling generous.”

“Handy,” James observed. 

“Yes, very. So let yourself in, peruse the paper or whatever. Grab a shower. There’s fresh towels there somewhere,” Q assured him. “We’ll get your more permanent digs sorted eventually.”

“Thanks, Q,” James said, stroking his cheek. He leaned down a bit to kiss the shorter man thoroughly. “Now, are you ready to come out of this closet with me?”

Q rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s what you were thinking earlier. How did I miss that?” He lay a hand on the door. “All clear.”

They stepped out into the empty hallway, and James looked at Q. “I’ll be back. Have a good morning,” he said.

“You, too.”

And they split up to their assigned tasks.

***

Fresh and pressed into a deep gray Tom Ford suit, Bond stepped off the lift at M’s landing to flirt with Moneypenney a bit while he waited for Q. 

“There’s trouble,” Eve said, eying him up. 

“Oh, you like trouble, Eve,” Bond responded with a wink. “You know you do.”

“Mmmm-hmmmmm,” Eve hummed. “You and Q looked like double trouble earlier today.”

“A phenomenon you’ll probably see more of,” James admitted with a grin.

“Really?” Eve hummed again. “I think I could see that. Our Quartermaster doesn’t seem to get out much, but when he does …” Eve shuddered. “I’ve heard stories.”

“Oh, do tell,” James purred, propping himself up on her desk.

“Belay that, Moneypenny.” Q’s voice sounded from the direction of the stairwell. “I want him to discover everything on his own.”

Eve pouted as the Quartermaster came into view. “But I have stories.”

“Let me share my stories with him in my own time, Eve, and I’ll make it worth your while,” Q said teasingly. 

“How?” Eve asked coyly.

Q dangled a new smartphone in front of her. “Does everything but your laundry, lovely.”

“Oh, gimme,” she said, making grabby hands gestures at the shiny new toy.

Q laughed. “Your word, lovely.”

Eve pouted again. “Fine, I promise to let 007 learn all your wild stories directly from you.” Q handed her the phone with a grin.

“There’s a readme app on the main screen that will take you through a quick tutorial in how to use it, but I’m sure you’ll manage just fine. Plus, hey, Chippendales wallpaper. Where did that come from?”

“You do know me well, boffin,” Eve said. “M will be right with you, boys.”

“So, my Q is a wild man, is he?” James asked with a smirk.

“You’ll find out,” Q flirted back.

M stepped through to his waiting area. “Ready, gentlemen?”

“Yes, sir,” the pair said in unison. 

M nodded. “Then let’s be off.”

The trio made their way down to the garages, having determined that it was less conspicuous for them to drive to the Leaky Cauldron. Though James was officially on administrative leave, he still held his 00 status, and served admirably as a bodyguard for the director and the quartermaster of MI6. The fact that the quartermaster could hold his own among magicals and that the director was former military also played a role in their decision to avoid an entourage.

Bond drove, approaching the corner smoothly, and parking in a street-level spot a block away. Though M had difficulty spotting the aged pub, Bond had no trouble directing him, Snape’s spell still in good working order. 

Q spotted Kingsley and Snape, dressed in identical black suits, at the bar. “This way, gentlemen,” he said softly to M and Bond, and shook his hair down over his eyes to hide both scar and coloring. He led them over to the bar, as well, cast a wandless silencing bubble, and made introductions.

“M, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Severus Snape, magical intelligence consultant,” Q said. If Snape was surprised by his introduction, he made no outward sign of the fact. “Kingsley, Severus, this is M, the head of MI6, Her Majesty’s Secret Service, and Agent 007, here as our bodyguard.”

“Pleasure to meet you, M,” Kingsley said. “Call me Kingsley.”

“And I’m Severus.”

“Charmed,” M said politely, shaking hands with each. “We’ve parked just down the street, and we have reservations at a vetted restaurant a few blocks south. Drive or walk?”

“Walking is fine,” Kingsley said, and Snape nodded agreement, his obsidian eyes taking in everything from Bond’s stylish suit, to Q’s instinctive disguise, to M’s resemblance to a familiar wizard. As the five walked out, Snape touched Q’s elbow and drew him back into a smaller silencing bubble.

“Did you notice the resemblance of your superior to the former Dark Lord?” Snape asked quietly.

Q’s eyes widened and he looked up at M, studying him thoroughly for the first time. He actually hadn’t, though there had been something … that had irked him. For no particular reason. “That explains the uneasiness,” he muttered back. “But M definitely doesn’t have magic. He was incredibly surprised by it, and his first thought was to use me as a weapon for MI6.”

“It might be wise to pry a bit into his background,” Snape observed.

“Yes,” Q agreed, and made a note on his tablet.

Bond said nothing, but watched everything.

***

Lunch was a bit awkward. M clearly drew on deeply engrained social manners to keep up with the wizards, and was just as clearly uncomfortable with the whole concept of magic, though he tried to hide it. (Q’s dressing down about race bias probably hadn’t helped.)

“I fear I am ill equipped to deal with the magical world, gentleman,” M finally admitted. “But I see that we have need to guard each other’s backs in the international community.”

“I think, if you have no objections, M, that you and I should meet monthly, at least,” Kingsley said. “The old M and I had worked together for several years, and we met at least quarterly for lunch, right here.”

“I think that would be wise, Kingsley,” M said. 

Q cleared his throat. “To that end, Kingsley, Severus, I have equipment for you.” He reached into his bag and pulled out two more smart phones. “These are equipped with magical dampeners, and can be used in both magical and non-magical areas. They’re phones, but they’re also capable of multiple means of communication in a pinch.” He smiled wryly. “I’ve yet to create a Patronus app, but you’ll be able to reach any magical or non-magical with another phone. The numbers are programmed, and I’ve also included mine and M’s numbers in the contacts.”  
Severus looked it over, and to Q’s surprise, competently opened up contacts, verified Q’s number, and called Kingsley’s to confirm. Kingsley’s rang, and Severus showed him where to tap the screen to respond. 

“You’re familiar with these, Severus?” Q asked.

“My business cannot rely on magical contacts alone, Q,” Severus replied. “I have a cell phone for non-magical areas, but this will be most useful. Thank you.”

“Yes, this will be useful, Q,” Kingsley added.

“Good.” Q drew out his own tablet, again, and brought up mission specs. “Now, to business. We have intelligence that an apparent paramilitary organization in Egypt is building and stockpiling magical weapons. From our testing, we’ve determined that these can be shut down with a simple dampening device. Disabling the weapons is a priority.

“That said, Kingsley, you said a new international dark threat has emerged and threatened magical Britain.”

“Yes,” Kingsley got right to the point. “It, too, is based out of Egypt, and we have this intelligence because one of our curse-breakers ran afoul of it. They call themselves the Ourobouros.”

“That matches the symbols we saw embedded next to the runes on the bottom of the device,” Q confirmed.

“So it appears to be the same group?” M asked. 

“It appears so, sir,” Q said.

“If I may,” Snape interrupted. “The likelihood of the Ourobouros symbol being used to represent a group calling themselves Ourobouros is high; however, at this point it is supposition. You need more information before you can make that call.”

“Your suggestion?” M asked.

Snape shrugged elegantly. “Reconnaissance of the Egyptian group, perhaps with a side of weapons disabling.”

“007, your thoughts?” M directed.

“An agent could do both, but as it’s likely there will be magical traps, the mission should include a magical agent, if possible.”

“Agreed,” Q said. “We haven’t any magical double-ohs, to my knowledge.”

“No,” M said. “But we have a magical Quartermaster.”

“If necessary, M, you know I will go out into the field. But it would probably be best if I managed the mission from ops, as per procedure. I can spot magical and non-magical traps from there and guide our agents through. I’m the only one available with that experience,” Q offered. 

“Perhaps I may be of assistance?” Snape suggested. “Unless Kingsley has an Auror with the level of experience in espionage and defense that would be required.”

Kingsley shook his head. “I do not. You should know, M, that the magical world is still recovering from the last rise and threat. Our numbers are low and our law enforcement overworked. I helped recruit Q for MI6 with an eye toward seeing non-magical assistance in the face of future threats. Q was, is, literally our best.”

Q shook his head. “Not true. When it comes to sheer volume of experience and expertise in espionage and defense, Severus is the best.”

“Thank you, Q.” 

“Sir, given the secrecy required, it’s probably best if you authorize a joint mission with Severus and MI6 for recon and weapons disabling,” James said. “As I am the only 00 aware of the magical world, it’s logical that I go.”

“You remain on leave, 007. You haven’t yet been cleared for active duty after recent events,” M said firmly.

“He can go to psych and medical this afternoon, sir,” Q said. “I’m afraid he’s right. As the only 00 in the know, he’s the logical choice.”

M pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out sharply. “Fine. 007, report to Psych and Medical this afternoon. If you pass, you’ll report to Q-branch at 1900 hours for briefing and mission specs.”

“Sir.”

“Q, see to Severus’ security clearance, find him a designation, and authorize him to use MI6 resources. We’ll need to have him actively on payroll, as well. Make it happen.”

“Sir.”

Severus nodded to M. “I’ll be glad to go.”

“00 status, sir?” Q asked, already tapping into his tablet.

“I suppose he’ll have to be, though there’s no precedent for someone coming in as 00, is there?” M responded.

Q shrugged. “It doesn’t happen often, but we’ve recruited agents from other branches of service who’ve come in as 00s. 007, for example, came through the Navy program.”

“Do we have a designation available?”

Q tapped a few more keys. “002 turned in his resignation when MI6 blew up, sir.”

“Severus, would you like a new job that pays extremely well, covers all your expenses, and allows you to live in a lap of luxury?”

Snape quirked an eyebrow. “The catch?”

“If you die, you die alone. And you might have to use your license to kill.”

“As long as I can retire gracefully, I’ll accept. At least for the duration of this mission.”

“Very well,” M said. “Q?”

Q smiled briefly. “Welcome to MI6, 002.”


	13. Chapter 12: A New 00

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mission is developed and equipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for following this! Updates are going to slow a bit now, as classes start for me on Monday. I'm aiming for at least every other day until done, though.

Chapter 12: A New 00

 

James had a love/hate thing going with Medical and Psych. 

"I know that I'm grieving for my lost mentor," he told one psychologist exasperatedly. "I'm not repressing it. I've been dealing with it. And work is the best way for me to cope at this point. I need a sense of purpose."

The psychologist in question regarded him thoughtfully. "Very well, 007. Should that change, I expect you to be self-aware enough to come back here. But I believe you're well enough to complete a mission at this point. It might do you some good."

"Thank you."

His next stop, for a complete physical, wasn't as positive.

"Your shoulder is still absolutely not one hundred percent, 007. Are you sure they can't use anyone else for this afternoon's mission?" 

James rolled his eyes at the doctor. "I'm sure."

The doctor sighed heavily. "I'll clear you with reservations, but I expect you to meet the physical therapist on your return and work with her to completely regain your form. I'll note it in your file. This mission only, then at least two weeks of physical therapy and rest."

Best he was going to get, James suspected. "Fine."

***

Severus quietly stocked up on potions, slotting them into a specially made magical pouch, before sheathing his wand and apparating to a spot a block away from MI6. Q had managed all his human resources processing with a few keystrokes, and certified him as fit and ready for mission work, a luxury not extended to Bond.

Security greeted Severus at the front desk, identified him, and escorted him to Q-branch, where he witnessed Q giving what appeared to be final instructions for a different mission to a lovely young woman with caramel-colored curls and hazel eyes set off by a coffee-and-cream complexion. 

"Ah, 002," Q called out. "Please, come and meet R. She's the second-in-command here in Q-branch, and will be overseeing the other ops we have going at the moment while I run yours."

Severus bowed slightly. "Ma'am."

She smiled at him, quick and bright. "002. It's nice to meet you." Turning back to Q, she added, "It's not like you're going to Egypt yourself, Q. I'm sure if there's major trouble, I can call on you. But we can handle things. As far as we're aware, none of the other ongoing ops need your particular brand of computer expertise, and they're otherwise quiet. Unless you count 006 going off the grid for that vodka he likes."

Q rolled his eyes. "He'd better share this time."

R laughed, and Severus raised an eyebrow. "Russian vodka?"

"A favorite of 006's." A ping from Q's tablet caused him to look down. "Oh, good. James is cleared. He'll be here shortly."

"Good luck, 002." R waved at him before slipping out to Ops Center 1.

"She seems pleasant," Severus observed.

"Smart, too," Q said absently. "One of our best. And that's saying something around here." He tapped a few more keys, then straightened up. "This way, Severus."

He led Severus back to his warded closet. "I wanted you to see this spot. It's warded against electronic interference, so you can do magic here. I use it as an in-house apparation point in emergencies, when I don't want to fuss with security. Use it discreetly." Severus nodded, and Q led him to the kitchenette. "And here, you can get a good cuppa -- and that corner is also warded against magical interference. I use it mainly to send an emergency patronus, as it's backed up against a tunnel system that will prevent any non-magical from seeing it."

"Clever," Severus murmured. 

"And probably temporary," Q sighed. "Our original building blew up a few months ago, and this space is meant to be temporary. I don't know what M has managed to do about location, though we could do worse than here." He checked his watch. 18:30. "I'm guessing James will be by shortly. Come see my office."

Severus followed him, feeling oddly like a parent watching his child show off. "And this is where my magic happens. Pun ... well, half-intended? Is that a thing?" Q asked.

Severus snorted. "Probably not, but I understand what you mean, Q." He took in the corner space with the clear glass overseeing the rest of the branch. "How will you be overseeing the mission?"

"From here, mostly," Q said. "Normally I’d run an op from one of the Ops Centers, but for the secrecy needed here, I’ll use my own command station and screens. That way, if you must use obvious magic, it will be my eyes only.” He demonstrated the computer screens and keyboard. “I don’t know that you’ll have cameras in the building you’re going to, but I’ll do my best to help you keep up. We'll wait for James before I show you all the toys I’m sending along."

"I'm here, Q," James said from the door. 

"Oh, good." Q gestured him in, and turned to his conference table, on which two cases were laid. He popped open the first one. "James, your Walther, palm-print coded; your radio, which connects to myself and to Severus; and a dozen dampeners. These are all bug-shaped on purpose, about the size of a beetle. They'll stick to anything you place them on, and I suggest you make good use of them if you happen to run across a weapons pile. Also, new smart phone, with camera and sound recording. Code phrase for security is the first line of the lyrics for 'All you need is love.'" Both agents looked at him. "What? It's the Beatles. I was working on bugs. Don't judge me."

Severus rolled his eyes and James smirked.

"Severus, you have an identical kit, though I presume you stocked yourself as well?"

"Of course I did." Severus drew a pouch from his belt and demonstrated. "Standard healing potions and a few incendiary devices. Can I duplicate the dampeners?"

"Yes, with Duplio. But honestly, if there are enough weapons, blow them up."

James smiled brightly. "You mean this is a mission where you'll let me blow something up?"

Q grinned at him. "Did I forget to mention the C4 I packed into this tablet shell for you?"

"Q, this might just be love," James said seriously, eyes gleaming.

"You say the sweetest things, James," Q cooed.

Severus rolled his eyes again. "Professionalism, Quartermaster?" 

"Hmm. Still have that tone that makes feel like I'll be scrubbing out cauldrons in detention," Q observed.

"Some things never leave us," Severus said solemnly.

"Isn't that the truth?" Q said rhetorically.

James stepped forward and took Q's hand. "He might have a point, but I don't particularly care," he said plainly.

Q laced their fingers together. "Me, either."

"The mission, gentlemen?" Severus prompted.

"Right. Your smartphones are preprogrammed with maps and directions to the latest known location of the storage facility housing the weapons. The intel we got from the agent on the ground suggests there's an office there as well. Find out what you can, disable the weapons you can, and report back. James, if you can plant this listening device in the office, that’ll assist us with data-gathering. I'll be on comms with you the entire time. Since speed is a factor here, I've got a portkey for you." Q reached for a flat, silver disk about five inches in diameter. "007, this is a magical device that will take you directly to a pre-booked hotel room in Cairo, about thirty minutes from the site by car. A Range Rover is already in the hotel parking lot, loaded up with all the toys. When the mission is complete, you'll return by the same portkey, so don't lose it."

"Passphrase for the portkey?" Severus asked.

"Beetles. For reasons."

James smirked. "Bit of a theme today, eh?"

"Bugs always make me think of beetles. And reporters. But that's neither here nor there." 

"Another one of those stories?"

"Yep. So come back in one piece. I'll regale you when you get back."

James grinned. "I look forward to it."

"Standard mission protocols, 007. Severus, that means you'll check out through security. Normally, Bond would drive to the airport and fly out to Egypt. You two are, in fact, booked on a flight out at 2100. But we want to keep the element of surprise, so you will not be taking that flight. Severus, I assume you found an apparation point nearby?"

"Yes, street-level, down about a block in the alley."

"Perfect. Leave from there. I don't know quite what you'll find, hence the recon part of this mission. So gather intel, disable weapons if you can get away with it, and stay in touch. James, Severus is one of the strongest wizards I've ever met, so your magical needs will be met. Severus, James is our premiere agent. He has excellent instincts, and he knows his job well. James is on point, and Severus is backup. Clear?"

"Crystal, Q." James agreed.

"Yes, Quartermaster." Severus sneered because it was expected, but there was no heat behind it. 

"Then, good luck, agents. Oh, and Severus, can you please keep any stories about me to yourself?"

"No, but I promise to share only what's relevant to the mission."

Q started. "What could possibly be relevant to the mission?"

"Tell me, Q, do you retain the ability to speak to snakes?"

Q opened his mouth, closed it. And nodded. "Yes."

"Potentially relevant."

"Point made, 002." Q drew a deep breath. "Any other questions?" 

"None. But if I could have a private word, Quartermaster?"

"Of course, 007. 002, if you could excuse us?"

Severus nodded, stepped outside of the Quartermaster's office, and shut the door behind him--but not without casting a quick eavesdropping spell.

Oblivious, James drew Q to him once the door was closed. "You know, I'd hoped to have a few days with you before getting sent out again."

"I'd hoped so, too, but duty calls, I guess," Q said unhappily. 

James hugged him, then pulled back, keeping Q loosely in his arms and kissing him on the forehead. "With luck, we'll back tomorrow, and we can spend the evening together. You can tell me stories."

"Yes, all my wild and wanton ways, of course."

"Stay safe, Q," James said quietly.

"Stay safe, James," Q whispered back, then kissed him.

Outside, Severus canceled the spell, and appeared to be observing a tech's dismantling of a weapon similar to Bond's Walther when James appeared. "Ready, then?" he asked.

"Let's go," 007 replied, and the pair exited MI6. James followed Severus to the apparation point he’d used that morning, and Severus pulled out the disk.

“Make sure some part of you is touching it before I speak the passphrase,” Severus warned. “It will feel odd, like a hook around your belly, dragging you somewhere. In this case, I presume to the hotel room Q has booked for us.”

James nodded, touched the disk, and took a deep breath as Severus intoned, “Beetles.”


	14. Chapter 13: Unearthing Trouble in Cairo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bond and Snape are on a mission

Chapter 13: Unearthing Trouble in Cairo

 

The agents landed smoothly in a large open living space of a two-bedroom hotel suite in Cairo. James stepped back and glanced out the window. “Cairo. Magical transport is amazing.”

“Glad you think so, 007,” Q said dryly, the tone coming through loud and clear on his ear piece. “Please see that 002’s earpiece is in and functioning normally, will you?”

“002, Q wants me to make sure you know how to use the earpiece,” James related. 

Severus popped it into his ear. “Can you hear me, Q?” he asked.

“Loud and clear. Gentlemen, your vehicle is in the parking lot south of the hotel. I’m texting you the plate number, 007. Keys in the usual spot; swipe your phone over the box.”

“Copy, Q.”

The men left the suite, headed downstairs, and found the parking lot. James pulled his phone, looked at his texts, and found the right vehicle, then used the Bluetooth function to pop open the box on the underside of the rear axle that contained the keys. He unlocked it, then got behind the wheel, Severus taking his place on the passenger side.

“En route, Q.” James tapped his phone again for the map, memorized it, and set it down.

“Excellent. I’ve got eyes in the vehicle and on it.”

“No chance I could get 002 to tell me stories of your misspent childhood while we’re driving, then, I take it?” 

“Only the relevant ones, 007. He promised.”

Severus snorted. “I did.”

“Anything relevant so far?” James asked.

“Unless you count my utter astonishment that Q is not actually in the back seat. He seemed to have spent most of his time on adventures in school.”

Q’s voice sounded exasperated. “I keep telling people I didn’t go looking for trouble.”

“That may be true, but trouble had an uncanny way of finding you,” Severus acknowledged.

“A good portion of that was Dumbledore trying to ‘train’ me in his own unique way, 002, as you’ve no doubt discovered or guessed. At least, I have,” Q said. 

“Train you?” James queried. 

“Child of prophecy, remember?” Q said. “He expected me to die. So he instilled a singular distrust in adults and presented me with scenarios in which I was literally the only one who could or would do anything to solve the problem, save lives, whatever.”

Severus shook his head. “I can’t say he was completely wrong in his approach, because in the end, you did what you needed to do, Q, and survived it, but I had a hell of a time trying to keep you alive to adulthood without letting you know that I was doing so.”

“It was what it was,” Q repeated from his earlier conversation with James.

James shook his head. “He moulded you to be a child soldier, essentially.”

“Did his best, yes,” Q agreed. “You’re coming up on the warehouse, 007. 002, a Notice-me-not would be a good idea.”

Severus drew his wand and circled it, obscuring the vehicle and its passengers. “Done.” He looked at James. “Obscures us from view of all. Handy charm.”

James nodded. “How long does it last?”

“Indefinitely unless broken,” Severus answered. “It’s a very basic privacy ward, however. If someone magical catches on that there might be something in the vicinity worth looking at, the jig is up.”

“Not on that vehicle,” Q said. “Your casting of the notice-me-not set off a stronger ward I placed in the rune work on the keybox. No one will see the vehicle but the pair of you.”

“Clever, Q,” Severus said. “Is this the kind of thing you do often for your agents?”

“I’ve been working on it. Stealth is a primary function of our job descriptions, after all,” Q responded. “However, this kind of stealth is tough to set off without a magical, and I’ve yet to develop something that doesn’t require at least a spell trigger. Tech has not yet caught up for a cloaking device, though I still think there are possibilities there. On the off, 007, best to park a bit away. We don’t want to risk the chance of a curse-breaker nearby.”

“Acknowledged,” James said, and pulled the vehicle up in the shade of an outbuilding.  
“Disillusionment, 002?”

“Yes, Q.” Severus tapped James head with his wand, watching the man shudder at the egg-yolk feeling, and then tapped his own. The pair stepped out of the vehicle, invisible. James pulled his Walther; Severus kept his wand out, and they moved on quiet feet to the back of the central warehouse from which the agent had procured the magical bomb. 

“Can you see us, Q?” James asked quietly.

“Not on camera, no. But I have your phone trackers available and on screen. I know where you are. Intel from our agent suggests standard warehouse, with an office to the back, opposite where you’re standing. There shouldn’t be anyone there at this time of day, but with apparation, and the strong probability of magical influence, be prepared for anything.”

“Acknowledged.”

James slipped over to a locked back door and pulled lock picks out of his inner suit pocket. Thirty seconds later, the pair were the building, quietly making their way past a few stockpiles toward the warehouse offices. Severus paused for a moment at the threshold of the offices, which appeared to be locked and quiet. “Hominum revelio,” he whispered. Noting no pingback, he said out loud, “Q, no humans were detected in the offices.”

“Proceed with caution.”

James picked the locks on the doors again, and kept his grip on his Walther as they cautiously moved into what looked like an oversized conference room, spread with paperwork. A glass door to the back revealed more paper. “I don’t see any computers, Q,” James reported.

“The old-fashioned way, then, 007. Cameras on your phones. Or duplicating and shrinking charms; dealer’s choice, gentlemen.”

“007, if you keep an eye on the door, I can make quick work of copying all these boxes,” Severus said quietly.

James nodded, and stepped back to the door.

Severus quickly copied the materials, then shrunk them for storage in his potions pouch, which had an expansion charm on it. He then stepped to the glass door, opened it, and repeated the work in the interior office before coming back to James. “Done.”

“Check to see if there are other offices or other sources of intel available, 007, then take a look at those weapon caches.”   
With a nod to Severus, James stepped out, Walther in hand, mentally “clearing” the hallways with Severus in his wake. There were no cameras, anywhere, in the building. There were few electronics, in general. “Q, can you see us at all?” 

“No, 007. Just your heat signatures in the building from the satellite I’ve tapped. As far as I can see, there’s no one else there.”

“No cameras. No computers. Reams of paper.”

Severus added, “And some parchment, Q.”

“Definitely magicals, then,” Q mused. 

The agents searched the rest of the meager offices and found nothing more in the way of paperwork, and James recorded video the entire way. Then they double-backed toward the weapons caches, trusting Q to tell them if another heat signature registered.

Severus pulled one of the weapons, a model similar to the one brought in by the original agent. “Do you want a sample, Q?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” came the reply. “Dampen first.”

Severus attached a dampener to the weapon and put it in his pouch with the rest of the haul. James peered around. Other than the cache Severus was investigating, four caches rested against a side wall, in large crates, and the rest of the floor remained clear. He proceeded cautiously to the crates and popped a lid. James gave a low whistle, and snapped a picture, texting it to Q.

“Oh, 007. Is it my birthday?” Q purred. “Gimme.”

James grinned, then lifted the modified machine gun free of its casing and gestured to Severus. “Magical, 002?”

“Appears to be so,” Severus said, looking it over. “Not loaded, I think, though I’m not familiar with non-magical weapons.”

James nodded, then broke down the rifle himself to determine that it was unloaded, and handed the pieces to Severus for his pouch. They popped the next crate to find enchanted bullets, and the next two contained more of the same.

James took samples of everything.

“What do you think, agents? Severus, is it safe to blow these up?”  
“Yes,” Severus said, looking over the contents of each crate. “And if you want these samples, and you want this location to remain a source of intel, you should make it look like an accident.”

“007?”

“Got it, Q.” James set charges from a central crate that would destroy all five caches, aiming the blast outwards. It would be contained within the warehouse, but enough pieces would be left behind to make it look like something had gone wrong with the tech. Severus pulled out a potion vial.

“What’s that?” James asked. 

Severus gestured. “It’ll add a magical signature to the blast, so it will look like something magical overloaded and combusted.”

“Brilliant, 002. That will force them to investigate the problem and may delay their action,” Q praised, before a pause. “Gentlemen, we have a heat signature approaching from what appears to be an apparation point 10 meters south. Detonate and exit north, then circle around to your vehicle. Do not engage, if possible.”

“Acknowledged, Q.” The pair set up the explosion, with James setting a five second trigger before they ran for the north door. James counted it off as they stepped around the exterior, and just got a glance of a head of silver-blond hair entering the building as the explosion went off.

“Oh, pretty,” Q commented. “Your visitor has been knocked out by the blast, but appears to be breathing, still, judging by the infrared.”

Severus glanced in the door to judge whether the “visitor” needed medical attention, and took a picture of the man, shaking his head as he did so.

“What?” James said. 

“That man will have a lot of questions to answer,” Severus said. “But he’ll live.”

“Get out of there now, agents,” Q hissed. “There are others popping in at the apparation point.”

Severus renewed the Disillusionment charms and they silently headed for their vehicle, James recorded the whole way as magicals popped into existence and stared at the colored smoke wafting from the building’s ventilation system. Severus got into the Range Rover and took over the recording while James climbed into the driver’s side.   
“Can I cast a silencing charm on the engine, Q?” Severus asked. 

“Direct it at the steering column, and yes,” Q replied. “I’m watching. About a dozen bodies have shown up so far. The person in the building is moving now, crawling out the door. He’s going to catch some heat, no pun intended. Oh, and look at that. How nice of them to look up at that smoke. Say cheese, people.” 

“Q?” Severus asked.

“Got ‘em on a satellite photo,” Q said gleefully. “This is is brill.”

“Glad you’re happy, Q,” James said, grinning.

“You can drive away, slowly, now,” Q said. “I’ve got imagery, and they’re distracted by the fire. They shouldn’t notice your dust as you rumble off, and your Notice-Me-Not is still up. Proceed with caution back to the hotel.”

“Acknowledged, Q.”

Severus watched the wizards in his side mirror as James drove them away. “Q, this is a serious problem for us,” he observed.

“What did you see, 002?” Q asked.

“I don’t know if you caught the identities of those magicals yet, but I should point out that at least three of them should be rotting in Azkaban, including our first visitor,” Severus said.

“Who?”

“Well, I spotted Nott Senior and Rabastan Lestrange outside,” he replied, thinking slowly.

“And our visitor?”

Severus glanced at James, who quirked an eyebrow at Severus’ hesitance. Severus took a deep breath.

“Lucius Malfoy.”

Q hissed a breath.

James broke in. “Problem, I take it?”

“Oh, yes,” Q said. “Three of Voldemort’s inner circle, all of whom should be in cells right now. No breakouts have been reported that I’m aware of, so I need to notify Kingsley immediately.”

“Do so,” Severus said. “We’re clear to the hotel at this point. No one is following us.”

“I’ll make the call,” Q affirmed. “Comm silent.”

Severus looked down at his pouch, thinking.

“What, 002?” James asked.

“At one point, the re-emergence of these people would have been Q’s worst nightmare,” Severus said thoughtfully. “I wonder if that’s still the case?”

James shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”


	15. Chapter 14: The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which backstory is uncovered, and mildly explicit SLASH smut happens.

Chapter 14. The Plot Thickens. 

 

Q returned to the comms just as 002 and 007 made it back to the Egyptian hotel room.

“Agents, Kingsley is personally going to Azkaban this afternoon to see what’s going on,” Q informed them. “Since the dementors have gone, it’s physical staff who are present to monitor the prison, and those three have not been reported missing.”

“That leaves a few options, Q,” Severus speculated. “Polyjuice, human transfiguration...or old-fashioned bribery, I suppose.”

“Once the battle was over, I didn’t follow the trials,” Q admitted. “I didn’t need to, as there was plenty of evidence against the Inner Circle without my input. I spoke up for Narcissa Malfoy, as she helped me during the final battle, but I left England that year, so I don’t know what the primary outcome was. But I did have the impression that the Malfoy vaults were to be pillaged by the Ministry for reparations.”

“Yes, but Lucius was particularly good at hiding funds,” Severus said. “It would be wise to follow the money, if possible.”

“Not possible if the goblins are involved,” Q said ruefully. “They’re still rightfully pissed at me for the whole dragon thing.”

James broke in. “Dragon thing?”

Severus smirked. “I read about that.”

“I suppose it’s relevant,” Q said reluctantly. “007, in order to destroy one of the objects I mentioned, I had to break into the wizarding bank, Gringotts, which is staffed by goblins, and get into a deep underground vault to collect it. I managed that, but it’s much easier getting into a vault you’ve no business being in than getting out of one. Ron, Hermione and I escaped on the back of one of the Gringotts trained guard dragons. Took it out right through the roof.”

“And you tease me about destroying things?” James asked smugly. 

“Yes, well, you are rather destructive, 007. And didn’t I just let you blow something up?”

“You did,” James said. 

Severus shook his head. “Mayhem and destruction. The pair of you seem eerily well-suited.”

“At any rate, agents,” Q continued. “Gringotts took reparations from my vault. I transferred most of the Potter and Black fortunes to Barclay’s when I went Muggle. Under aliases, of course. Kept the family vaults for the magical item storage. But 007, you should know that goblins are tricky and mean, and have no love for wizards in general. Getting a money trail from them would be nearly impossible. However, since those weapons are based on non-magical items, I have hope that they were paid for with non-magical funds, which would mean a money trail.”

“That would mean seeing if Lucius transferred some of his funds to the non-magical world, I suspect,” Severus observed. “And it wouldn’t surprise me if he did. Pureblood dogma is one thing, but if there’s money to be made, the Malfoys are first in line. Magical or no.”

“True, that. I’ll start a deep search for banking transactions under Malfoy in the non-magical world, and expand from there,” Q said. “Meanwhile, I need those samples and that intel you gathered. We’ll need to digitize the documents, and I have equipment for just that here. I’ll pop over myself with a portkey back in one hour, and determine the next course of action.”

“Acknowledged, Q,” James said. “Now about those childhood stories ….”

Q laughed. “Late dinner when we return?”

“Excellent.”

***

Q popped into their hotel room an hour later with a shiny new portkey back to London, and more news.  
“Kingsley visited Azkaban,” he said without preamble. “Draco Malfoy was sitting in for his father, and he’s in an apparently catatonic state. Kingsley was arranging for him to be transported to St. Mungo’s secured wing for evaluation. Nott and Lestrange have been replaced by golems, somehow. He’s assigned an Auror to investigate.”

“A golem?” James asked.

“Sort of a magical mannequin. Making them is uncommon, but not out of the realm of possibility for a strong wizard with a certain skill set,” Severus explained. “What’s more intriguing is how they were switched. And why the golems weren’t noticed.”

“Apparently, their plates were charmed to vanish food that appeared, and when guards made their counts, the pair of them would appear to be sleeping. More concerning is what happened to Draco,” Q said. “He dropped off the radar five years ago, ostensibly to do a world tour of Malfoy properties. Whether that’s when the switch was made or not is unclear, and the pair look so alike, a guard wouldn’t have noticed the switch.”

“And what did Draco do to anger his father enough to use him, rather than a golem?” Severus pondered.

“Father and son?” James clarified.

“Yes.” Q thought for a second. “It’s only speculation, but I would guess Draco wanted nothing to do with his father’s plans. They’d already gotten him in trouble once, and Draco is not stupid.”

“Putting Draco in Azkaban keeps him out of Lucius’ hair, especially if he didn’t want to help, but ensures the Malfoy heir is alive if necessary,” Severus nodded.

“I have a facial recognition program running back at HQ on the satellite images, and I’m dying to dig into the intel you’ve got in your magical pouch, Severus. If you’re ready, we’ll take this back to my place. It’s warded, and I’ve already checked out of security. You two are supposedly on a plane right now, so no one will know where we are.” Q held out another flat, silver disk. “On three.”

All three men held on to the disk as Q said, “Abbey Road.”

They landed gracefully in the living room of Q’s London flat, with Q stumbling only a bit. “How is it, James, that you, whose first experiences with magical transport have all occurred in the last 24 hours, can do so with grace, whereas I, who have been working with magical transport for twenty years--”

“Still stumble?” Severus asked smoothly. “Q, it’s time to admit it. Magical transport hates you.”  
“And I’m just naturally graceful,” James said with a smirk.

Q shook his head. “I’ve been gypped.”

Severus snorted. “No, actually, you haven’t. You just have too much of your own innate magic for the transportation magic to work smoothly. Therefore, it hates you.”

“I’ve never heard of that happening,” Q commented.

“Why do you think Albus always traveled by phoenix, whenever he could help it? Or Voldemort by flying himself? Your innate power tends to overpower whatever magical items are used for transport. You can compensate, but you’ll never be graceful with a portkey or floo,” Severus explained.

James stepped up and took Q’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “It sounds like you need to accept that you’re extraordinary, Q,” he said.

Q blushed a bit. “But I’m not, not really. I’m just me.”

“And who you are is extraordinary,” James emphasized. “This last 24 hours of seeing your true self? Q, I was already attracted to your genius, and your lovely, lovely form, but seeing underneath to the man you are? I’m amazed by you.”

Q couldn’t get any redder. “James, I don’t know what to say. Except could we continue this discussion when my former Professor is not present?”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Severus said silkily. “I’m just speculating as to whether your coloring is that of a tomato, or a beet.”

“Not helpful, sir,” Q said with gritted teeth.

“Severus, why don’t you start pulling all of our lovely intel out and laying about the table in that dining area there?” James suggested firmly. “Q and I will just go over here.”

‘Over here’ turned out to be Q’s bedroom, where not twenty-four hours ago, Q woke from a nightmare and Bond was there to see him through the aftermath. James pulled Q into the room closed the door behind him, and turned to press Q up against it, claiming his lips in a deep kiss.

Q sank under it, giving into the sweep of tongue and grasping the back of James’ head to press him closer. Their bodies met, chest to hip to knee, and a roll of James’s hips against his own made Q’s eyes cross. 

“God, James,” he gasped, pulling his mouth away slightly. James didn’t reply, but moved his own mouth to Q’s neck, just below his ear, sucking hard as Q keened at the pleasure of it. “I can’t …”

“Oh, yes, you can,” James purred into his ear, and swept down to nip Q’s Adam’s apple, sweeping his hands up Q’s sides under his shirt to gently tweak his nipples, earning a strangled groan. “I want you to. I want to hear all the lovely sounds you make as you lose yourself in the pleasure I can give you.” He withdrew his hands from under Q’s shirt to start unbuttoning it, revealing pale, pale skin as he pushed it off Q’s shoulders. James made quick work of Q’s shirt, then ran his hands over Q’s chest as he claimed his lips one more time.

Lost in sensation, Q could only hold on as James claimed him, writhing against the powerful body pressed to his. James moved his hips, matching hardness to hardness, and frotted against Q gently, slowing the pace a bit to let Q catch up. “I really love having you here, with me,” James said slowly, whispering the words into Q’s ear. “You extraordinary man.”

Q choked up a bit, then raised both of his hands to frame James’ face. “I love having you here, with me, too,” he said softly. They paused together, breathing into each other’s mouths, Q’s shirt off, James’ suit rumpled. 

And then they lunged together once more.

James’ suit disappeared as Q banished it. Q’s pants followed the suit. And then they were naked, skin against skin, as James tossed Q back on his bed and followed him down, the long, hard lines of his body a perfect match for his own. 

“Here,” Q whispered, reaching between them to pull their cocks together with a soft “lubricus.” James covered Q’s hand with his own, and they rocked together, the magically conjured lubricant easing the way into mutual climax.

***

In Q’s small dining area, Severus pondered the small mystery that was Harry Potter/Q as he laid out the paperwork collected from the warehouse.

When Harry was a child, Severus thought him to be a perfect image of his father, James Potter, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Harry looked like James, but his personality was Lily. And his brains…

Not for the first time, Severus frowned over the fact that the non-magical arts and sciences were not taught at Hogwarts. It was assumed that all wizards and witches would be joining the magical world, and thus in need only of a magical education.  
However.

What of students such as Harry, who displayed aptitude for magic, but apparently had untold depths of talent in other, non-magical, areas? Would the magical world be ahead of the game now if those brains had been allowed to develop? Who else had slipped through the cracks?

Severus would never have considered Harry Potter a genius, but he admitted the evidence of the past ten years would indicate he’d missed something.

Who--and what-- else had he missed?

He thought about that as he laid out the copied documents into what appeared to be chronological order, and began taking digital scans of each with the tablet he’d been issued. 

And ignored the muffled groans from Q’s bedroom.

***

In the afterglow, James traced the outline of an oval-shaped burn scar on Q’s chest. “Does this have a story?” He asked, softly.

Content and tired, Q grunted. “Yes. One of the objects I had to destroy to take out Voldemort got stuck to me at one point. It’s a magical scar. Won’t go away.”

James sat up a little and looked Q over. He traced another scar at the top of Q’s shoulder. “And this?”

“Dragon,” Q cleared his throat, which had grown rough with the sounds of their earlier lovemaking. “Hungarian Horntail. That international combat competition I told you about when I was 14.”

James kissed it, and moved down his right arm. “This?” he asked, touching a round gnarl of scar tissue. 

“Basilisk bite, second year. Healed with phoenix tears, or I wouldn’t be here.”

“And this?” James followed a silvered line. 

“Resurrection ritual for Voldemort. Took my blood by force.”

James picked up Q’s right hand and turned it over to kiss the knuckles, looking at the tracery of what appeared to be words on his hand. “I must not tell lies?” he asked softly.

“Teacher, Delores Umbridge. I told you about her.”

“Is she dead?” James asked, just as softly, and yet somehow cold.

“In Azkaban. Though I suppose we ought to check.”

“Mmmm,” James made an sound of assent, and caught view of a thin line that curved over Q’s hip. He moved down the bed, and traced the line with his tongue, turning Q over to follow it. “And these?” he asked, looking at a collection of stripes across his lower back and buttocks, thin and silvered. Old.

Muffled into a pillow. “Vernon Dursley, belt marks. Asshole.”

“Your relatives?”

“Yes. Though I haven’t seen any of them since the war, and I don’t intend to.”

James traced each line with his tongue, finishing each line with a kiss. Then he raised himself up to lay against Q’s naked back, his sated cock resting in the crease of Q’s buttocks as James pressed Q into the mattress, nipping the back of his neck. “An extraordinary man, with an extraordinary life, still doing extraordinary things,” James murmured into Q’s messy black hair. “And yet, still here, still alive, still himself.” He bit into Q’s neck again, just lightly. “And mine, I hope.”

Q whispered, just loudly enough for James to hear, “Yours.”


	16. Chapter 15: More Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a information is digested and a plan hatched.

Chapter 15: 

A silver doe Patronus erupted through Q’s bedroom wall, and spoke with Severus’ voice:

“Gentlemen, loathe as I am to disturb what is assuredly a life-affirming moment of post-coital bliss, there’s work to be done.”

Q grunted again, and James only sighed against his neck. “I suppose we ought to move. Though I don’t usually have much to do with analysing the intel.”

“First time for everything, James,” Q said. “And I could use you.”

James rolled off Q’s back and stretched as Q, himself, rolled over and off his bed to find clothes, sorting out sweats and looking around for James’ suit, which seemed to have disappeared entirely.

“Um, James?” 

“Yes, Q?”

“How fond were you of that suit?”

James quirked an eyebrow. “As fond as any of them, I suppose. Why?”

“I might have banished it without knowing where I banished it to,” Q admitted. “I was in a bit of a hurry to get you naked. And if you don’t specify … well, things go missing.”

James laughed. “It was one of many, Q. No worries. Though I don’t fancy heading out to work with Severus while naked.”

Q shuddered. “Me either. Sweats do you?”

“Absolutely,” James replied.

Q dug out another pair of gray sweats, enlarged them slightly to fit James’ larger frame, and found a plain navy tee for him to wear with it. “Here,” he said, handing the set over to James. “I think your boxers ended up under the bed, if you care to look.”

“Will I find many boxers there?”

Q snorted. “James, you are the first person to share my bed in more than a year. If there are boxers under there that don’t belong to you, I’ll be reinforcing my wards and calling my landlord.”

James laughed and got up. “Fair enough.” He looked under the bed, found his boxers, and his only, and dressed quickly. They took turns in the attached bath and made it out to Severus, who looked disgruntled. 

“Chinese?” Q asked cheerfully as he reached for take-out menus on the counter. “I was promised a late dinner.”

“Works for me,” James said. 

“And for me,” Severus agreed. “At least one egg roll, please.”

“Got you covered,” Q said, and placed the order while Severus continued his digitization of the documents.

***  
“From what I gather, it looks like Lucius is spearheading this effort,” Q noted, reviewing another document. “I have feelers out in the non-magical financial districts, but it appears he feels very safe in his Egyptian warehouse. These papers here--” Q gestured to a stack at his left-- “seem to be ledger sheets.”

“A financial analyst would be useful,” Severus commented, going through a different stack. “These seem to be recruitment lists, with names marked by a snake for those who’ve joined his efforts.” Severus counted. “We’re looking at 36 confirmed recruits, and many of these names are known to me as former Death Eaters or their family and acquaintances. The yet-to-be-recruited list includes most of the known pureblood families of Europe.”

“How would recruitment take place?” James asked.

Severus shrugged. “I’m not a pureblood, but I ran in those circles. Lucius is very good at one-on-one meetings. He can be very persuasive, and he values people who don’t require the Imperius curse to cooperate. During Voldemort’s first rise, Lucius’ father, Abraxus, held massive parties at the Malfoy estates to impress and recruit.”

“Could we get someone in undercover to be recruited?” James wondered aloud. “That’s a standard tactic.”

Q sat back, thinking. “Most of the European purebloods know each other and their bloodlines intimately. We’d need a known pureblood who was willing to appear to be recruited. A new face would get nowhere.”

“Draco is in St. Mungo’s, you said?” Severus questioned.

Q nodded. “Catatonic at the last briefing. There was some concern that he may have been Kissed, but he does have brain function, so they’ve ruled that out.”

“Draco is Lucius’ son, and therefore, a pureblood, right?” James confirmed. “And Kissed?”

“The Dementors of Azkaban were dark creatures who fed off the souls of their victims through their mouths. Thus, the expression ‘Kissed’ for someone who’s lost their soul to one of them,” Q explained. “But the Dementors have not been tied to Azkaban for some time, and if any still exist, they weren’t given access to Draco. As I said, he still has brain function.”

“Where is Narcissa?” Severus asked. “I’m afraid I haven’t stayed in touch.”

“At Malfoy Manor, as she should be. We haven’t informed her about Draco’s whereabouts, just in case she’s in on the switch,” Q said. “I don’t think the Narcissa who saved my life in the Forbidden Forest would have approved of Lucius’ plans, but we’d like to figure out what those are before we approach her.”  
“What about you, Severus?” James suggested. “You were a member of their group before.”

“And a known spy,” Severus responded. “My cover was well and truly blown in the wake of the battle of Hogwarts. There’s no way any of them would be willing to believe that I’d go down that road again.”

“Pureblood ….” Q murmured. “Severus, are there any of my former classmates on the recruitment list?”

Severus looked, obligingly. “Recruited already, we have Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Adrian Pucey …. a fair number of your cohort of Slytherins. No Goyle, interesting. Nor Zabini, though I see they’re trying to recruit him. Nor are the Greengrasses on the list.”

“Isn’t Astoria Greengrass betrothed to Draco?” Q asked.

Severus started. “I believe so. I was asked to be a part of their wedding service, but that was months ago, and nothing came of it. I wonder how Lucius has held her off?”

Q smiled grimly. “I propose we find out. Severus, it wouldn’t look odd for you to owl Astoria and ask about their plans, would it?”

“It would not,” he acknowledged. “I’ll do a little discreet digging with Narcissa, as well.”

“If the ladies are in on it, they’ll have a story. If not …” Q fisted his hands in messy hair. “What do you want to bet that Lucius is pretending to be Draco?”

“Oh, that’s a thought,” Severus mused.

James asked, “How would he accomplish that?”

“Well, he could use charms to make letters look like they’re written in Draco’s handwriting, or Polyjuice potion to actually change his body’s to be Draco’s if there was a face-to-face meeting. If there’s courting going on, then Lucius is definitely going to be in deep trouble with Narcissa,” Severus speculated. “Magic won’t like that for terribly long.”

“What does magic have to do with it?” Q wanted to know.

“Sometimes I forget you weren’t raised magical,” Severus said. “Lucius and Narcissa were bonded by magic. Infidelity would seriously break the bond, perhaps even take the magic of the couple involved.”

“Interesting,” Q said. 

“Where does all this information leave us now?” James asked.

“Still gathering intel,” Q said. “Severus will make inquiries among his old acquaintances. Kingsley will report back on Draco. Now that we know the layout of the warehouse, we could plant a couple of bugs in the offices there, and continue sabotaging weapons as best we can. I’ve got my magical research assistant working out the details of the weapons. Tonight was a setback for them, but it will hopefully be viewed as an accident. Ideally, we need to get someone into the Ouroboros. As it can’t be Severus, we need to scout for someone pureblood who would do us the favor.”

“So I’ll likely be on mission to plant bugs soon,” James confirmed.

“Yes,” Q said. “I needed to see the set up before I could design something that would work within the magical and non-magical parameters of the warehouse, but now I’ve got a good idea. It should only take one more quick trip, likely in a couple of days to give the excitement time to die down.”

James nodded. “So my official status?”

“You’re back on administrative leave, Mr. Bond,” Q intoned officiously; then he grinned. “But you can hang out here if you’d like.”

“I like,” James decided. 

Severus stood and stretched. “I’ll head back to my place, then, and send an owl to Astoria. We’ll see what’s going on.”

“Thanks for your help, Severus,” Q said. “I’m grateful to have a man of your experience on our side.”

Severus waved it off. “As I said, I was bored. This is at least interesting.”

“Thanks anyway,” Q repeated, grinning.

“You’re welcome,” Severus replied, then turned on the spot and disappeared.

“That is so …” James paused.

“Amazing? Awe-inspiring?” Q prompted.

“Cool,” James decided.

“Well, Dad’s gone. Whatever shall we do?” Q batted his eyelashes at his new partner.  
“Oh, I think we can think of something to occupy our time,” James purred in response. 

Q waved a hand to stack the paperwork by subject and chronological order, set his tablets aside, and stood up, walking around the table to park himself in James’ lap. “How about playing 20 questions?” he suggested, half seriously.

“Hmmm,” James hummed, nuzzling into Q’s neck. “Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

“Animal, definitely.” Q ran a hand along a muscled bicep and listed forward to nuzzle James’ collarbone.

“Housebroken or wild?” James growled into Q’s ear.

“Oh, wild. Without a doubt,” Q responded in kind, biting the junction of James’ shoulder and neck.

“Is the answer, ‘Q, in his bed, writhing from my touch’?” James asked innocently.

“You’ve played this before, James,” Q observed, and giggled.

***

Lucius Malfoy sneered at the healer who was treating him for burns. Half of his hair had gone missing in the blast, which had destroyed all of their stockpiled weapons. His pristine robes had been shredded as well, though a quick “Reparo” had taken care of the worst of the damage.

“How did this happen?” he asked an assembled team of trusted associates. “What do we know?”

Theodore Nott stepped forward. “It appears to have been a magical accident, Lord Malfoy. Trace magical signature evidence suggests that one of the enchanted explosive devices broke somehow and exploded, taking the rest of the weapons cache with it.”

“That was months of work,” Lucius snarled. “It sets our plans back.”

“No matter, my Lord,” Nott soothed. “There’s no sign of Harry Potter at all; no sign of anyone willing to step in and take strong leadership of Britain, for that matter. Six months won’t matter in the long scheme of things.”

Lucius grunted. “We’ll have time to make the weapons foolproof before we take down the Ministry.”

“A silver lining, if one needs to be found, my Lord,” Nott agreed.

“Very well.” Lucius stood and waved off the healer to address the assembled. “Nott, assemble a new weapons team. Double your efforts. Parkinson, procure the parts. We need have replenished our stock in 90 days to stay on track with our plans. The world will not know we are coming.”


	17. Chapter 16: Curiouser and curiouser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which spy stuff happens.

Chapter 16: Curiouser and curiouser

Q paused in his work, sensitive ears catching the whisper of magic on the listening device planted by James and Severus on their earlier mission to Egypt.

In the two days since that mission, Q had refined a motion-sensitive device that would record audio and visual of the office, conference room and warehouse. The small listening “bug” they’d planted in the conference room while Severus was duplicating the paperwork had been quiet, leading Q to wonder if the space had been abandoned, or if the device had been shorted out somehow. 

But this faint whisper from the device, routed directly to Q’s computer to capture and transcribe the sound, reassured him that it was functioning. He adjusted his headset minutely.

It sounded like someone was packing up paperwork. Quietly.

Q sat back. He had no eyes on that space at the moment; mission specs were ready for James and Severus to head back late tonight by portkey. Ostensibly, the pair were in Egypt, their non-magical cover in place, but in reality, James was working from Q’s flat and Severus was … well, who knew what Severus was up to. They had a briefing at 1800 before the pair headed back to plant the new-and-improved bugs.

He checked satellite imagery and switched to infrared. One heat signature in the building, in the conference room, using magic (which was registering as cool waves) to gather up the paperwork. Q willed the person to step outside when he/she was finished so he could get a picture.

They’d already identified the folks who’d shown up at the Monday night meeting that had been compromised by 002 and 007. Now Q wanted to know who had the authority to go into the offices and clean up the information stored there. He kept an eye on the unknown person’s heat signature as he finished engraving the notice-me-not runes on the camera shells.

A tap at the door drew Q’s attention away to his erstwhile partner, who was grinning down at him.  
“Something you wanted, 007?” Q asked properly, then winked.

“Oh, always, Q,” James said airily, admiring the adorably geeky goggled look Q was sporting as he worked on the cameras. “Though I thought I’d take you to lunch if you were free.”

“Love to, but something’s come up here,” Q nodded toward his computer. “One of our friends in Egypt is cleaning up after himself. Or herself. I’m hoping for a picture if and when they step outside.”

James tilted his head to study the image. “Destroying documents?”

“As far as I can tell, he or she is simply compiling them for storage. See that wave-like energy there?” Q pointed to the screen, where soft waves of blue undulated from a fixed point toward the table. “That’s magical energy emitted from a wand and directed toward the table. It’s cool, so it’s not a fire charm or anything like that. It appears to be simply gathering, possibly duplicating.”

“Interesting,” James said. “I didn’t know you could record what magic looks like.”

Q laid down his tools, finished with the cameras, and stripped off goggles and gloves. “I’ve never really set out to try, honestly. I was just viewing the warehouse with infrared. The one little bug I gave you emitted a whisper a while ago, so I flipped the satellite up.”

They watched together while Q set his new toys into a foam case for transport. The unknown person finished the task at the conference table, swore softly (“Merlin’s balls?” James asked, cracking up. “Shut up, 007,” Q smirked back), then headed into the back office, where the listening device would not pick up sound. However, they could still watch the infrared as the person sat at the desk there and pulled out the parchment stack in the top drawer. 

“Looks like he or she is settling in to go over accounts. Those are the ledgers that Severus copied for us to peek at.” Q looked annoyed. “I really wish they had computers. That would make data gathering so much easier.”

“Well, we’ll just have to do this old school,” James observed. “It’s rather fun. Reminds me of the early days, before USB drives and hackers.”

Q snorted. “You’re not that old, James, to remember those days.”

James shrugged. “Old enough. Getting data on floppy disks, taking pictures of files with tiny cameras, exploding pens …”

“Yes, yes, I know you want an exploding pen. I told you, Christmas.” Q turned and rummaged through a cabinet. “And you get to plant cameras tonight, lucky you.”  
James admired the cut of Q’s trousers over his admittedly fine bum. “At least we have the benefit of a special skill set to cut down on some of the infiltration work. Heard from Severus?”

“He’ll be here at 1800. He should have more information on the Malfoy situation for us. Kingsley reports that Draco is undergoing treatment at St. Mungo’s; Severus may need to assist there, as he’s one of few known masters of legilimency.” Q found what he was looking for--an old case of some sort--and turned around. “I don’t know what Malfoy Senior did to break his son’s mind, but Severus has a good shot at helping to heal it.”

“Then it’s all waiting just now,” James commented. “Just like old times. Hurry up and wait.”

“And watch,” Q added, looking at the computer screen, where the unknown subject was still working on the books.

IMBM

Lucius Malfoy felt completely safe in the office of his Muggle warehouse, going over the books to see how fast the organization could come up with the funds to pay for new parts.

The man was beyond irritated at the destruction of a hundred thousand galleons’ worth of Muggle weaponry, not to mention the hours of labor that he paid his pet spellcrafter to enchant them. (Flagrantly violating Ministry law, but when one plans to take over the world, needs must, he thought.)

He grumbled over the destruction, grumbled over the delay in his plans, and grumbled over the fact that one plus one stubbornly added up to two. 

There was just enough in the organization accounts to cover another shipment of base materials, Lucius determined, but he’d have to tap Draco’s accounts again to maintain the local bribes and the paid labor.

Another round of Polyjuice, he supposed. It was a good thing he’d cut Draco’s hair when he’d thrown the lad in Azkaban, under the throes of a nightmare curse. His son stubbornly refused to take his place in Lucius’ plans to take over the world. He’d argued with him for hours; coercion, threats, and bribery failed to work as Draco was set to make a new, clean, Light name for the Malfoy family. And as Lucius was supposedly in prison, Draco held the power.

Lucius smirked, thinking about it. At least, Draco thought he had the power. 

When his last ditch effort failed, he’d bound his only son, cursed him, and sent him to Azkaban to replace the golem he’d had there. A little obliviation here, a few compulsion charms there, and no one was the wiser. Not even Draco’s little fiance, Astoria, who was pouting over Draco’s continued traveling for “business.” He’d been able to delay the wedding for nearly a year now, and Astoria was getting anxious. For that matter, so was Narcissa.

Lucius kept the news of his …. hmmm…. non-incarceration? Away from his wife. She’d firmly placed herself on Potter’s side at the end of the last war, and backed Draco’s plans to “redeem” the Malfoy name.

As if it needed redemption, Lucius snorted. When he ruled, his name would be legendary.

No, Narcissa was actively becoming a problem, urging “Draco” back home to wed Astoria. And of course, as Lucius was bound to Narcissa by magic, he couldn’t very well take Draco’s place in the rites.

Even if he were inclined to play with his son’s fiance.

Which he was not.

Still, something would have to be done, and soon. 

Lucius closed the books, placed them back in the drawer, and cast his usual wards, unaware that Q was watching the soft pulse of his magic on a computer screen as he did so. 

IMBM

Severus arrived at MI6 the non-magical way, coming through security calmly and making his way to Q-branch to meet Bond and Q.

He had news.

“Narcissa is not aware that Draco has been taking Lucius’ place in Azkaban,” Severus told Q. “She’s agitated that he’s still traveling, and hasn’t taken the time to come back for his own wedding. He won’t even set a date. Astoria is, apparently, ready to call it off, as she hasn’t even seen him in nearly a year.”

Q blinked. “Interesting. Verified the usual way?”

“A bit of gossip over tea and biscuits, but there was no surface deception. Narcissa is truly agitated,” Severus reported.

“And Draco? Kingsley said you might be asked to take a look.”

Severus nodded. “That’s scheduled for tomorrow, assuming we’re back in time. The Healers say it looks like some sort of nightmare curse. They’ve managed to break the curse itself, but his mind is in shambles. I’ll see if I can help him to heal it.”

“That’s a remarkable skill,” James commented. “Would it be as useful for those with other kinds of psychological damage?”

“Perhaps,” Severus shrugged. “It really depends on the situation and the person. But anyone can learn to organize his or her mind effectively, thus enabling the shielding of it. My biggest concern in Draco’s case is that he is, or was, competent at shielding his mind. To be broken after such training…” Severus trailed off. “Well, it doesn’t bode well.”

Q pursed his lips. “Let’s hope you can help him. Meanwhile, gentlemen, I have your toys.”

James and Severus each received special cases that included three cameras for placement in prominent spots, including dampeners, as well as extra dampening bracelets of platinum.

“I really should have given you these last time,” Q commented as he clasped one around James’ wrist. “Our unknown subject--likely Lucius Malfoy, but unconfirmed since he didn’t go outside after his stint at the books--appears to have warded the office. How you all didn’t trip them before is speculation, but I’d think it was the weapons dampeners you had on you. These will function better.”

“How do they work?” Severus asked.

“Magic registers these, and any organic material attached to them, as non-existent. Essentially, it masks your presence in a magical environment, enabling you to slide through wards and get to a target. I developed them for our non-magical agents who are assigned to kill magical targets,” Q explained briskly. “It doesn’t appear to interfere with the innate magic of the person who wears it. I’ve tried it myself to see. It just masks the magical signature.”

Severus whistled. “In the wrong hands …”

“Quite,” Q confirmed. “So don’t lose them, please.”

“Do my best,” James said, knowing the directive was more aimed at him. 

“Finally, Walther PPK for you, James, and an enchanted wand holster for you, Severus. Let me know how it works,” Q said. “I haven’t field-tested the holster yet, but it should call your wand to it should you lose your wand at any time. Sort of a built-in Accio.”

“Clever,” Severus said. “I really think your talents were wasted at Hogwarts.”

Q gave a small smile. “Not all of them.” He handed Severus a flat silver portkey. “Key phrase is ‘Sergeant Pepper,’ and it goes both ways. You’ll land in the same hotel room. The same vehicle is still parked in the lot under the same Notice-Me-Not. I’ll be with you on radio. Same procedure as last time, except when you return to the hotel, just portkey back. You’ll land in my flat, and then, 002, I’d like you to apparate the pair of you here. Just an added precaution.”

“Acknowledged,” James said, echoed by Severus.

“Off you go then,” Q waved them off. James paused for a quick kiss as he led the way to the apparation closet so they could leave.

IMBM

 

Agents 002 and 007 arrived in Egypt without fanfare, quietly found their vehicle, and headed back out to the warehouse, with Q riding along in their ears. 

“The building is clear right now,” Q told them. “I detect no heat signatures, and no active magic. Still, reasonable precautions.”

“Acknowledged,” James said. He pulled up in the shadow of the same outbuilding they’d used before. Dusk had fallen over the desert, and it was more challenging to see, but the pair made do without light until they entered the back door of the warehouse. “Lumos,” Severus entoned softly, and a small sphere of light lit their way back to the main office.

James placed a camera in conference room, at an angle that brought the whole of it into view from an upper corner. He added the small shield set in front of it, and Severus tapped it with his wand to activate the localized dampening and disillusionment runes. They placed another in the office, directly over the desk so that pictures of the books and ledgers could be taken with the best view, then headed into the warehouse. 

Severus “flew” up to a centerpoint to place cameras at three strategic places overhead. 

“That saves so much time,” James murmured.

“It does,” Q acknowledged in his ear. “I love magic.”

When Severus came back down, the pair quietly left and made their way back to the hotel to portkey to Q’s flat. “Ready?” Severus asked, and at James’ nod, took the agent’s arm and apparated them both back to MI6.

Severus assessed the wards, waiting briefly for a tech to move off to the elevator before exiting the closet, James following him, and heading back up to Q-branch.  
“Quick and quiet,” James told Q as they approached. “I wish they’d all be that smooth.”

“And look, now, agents,” Q preened as he beckoned them over to see his computer set up. “Twenty-four hour surveillance on a magical warehouse.”

“Hopefully, it does us some good,” Severus said dryly. 

“Agreed,” Q said.

James took a seat on Q’s desk. “So now’s the wait part of it all.”

“Wait and find someone to infiltrate,” Q agreed. “Gather intel. The boring part, basically.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” Severus said. “Call me if you need me again. I’ll report in if I find out anything more.”

“Take care, Severus,” Q said seriously. 

“Always,” the potions master replied, and made his way out.

James and Q looked at each other. “Dinner?” James asked.

“Absolutely,” Q said, setting up his feeds to record and texting R. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't set a rating on this yet, because I haven't yet decided if our intrepid heroes will get any more explicit than they did a couple chapters back. I'm not at all confident in my ability to write smut. Any votes?


	18. Chapter 17: Pasta and Pranks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is pasta, a prank, and other words that start with P.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit o' sexy times at the very end, because it fit with this particular chapter.

**Chapter 17: Pasta and Pranks**

James took Q to a little Italian restaurant overlooking the Thames.

“Best pasta you’ll ever have,” James told him. “It’s one of my favorite spots when I’m in town.”

“Excellent,” Q said. “I love pasta.”

They settled in to eat, ankles resting against each other under the small table. Q moaned in appreciation at the flavors of the fresh fettucine al fredo and grilled shrimp.

“This is so good, James,” Q commented appreciatively. “Thanks for sharing this with me.”

“Any time, Q,” James said simply. “I’d love to take you to all the little places I’ve learned about.”

“You’ve been everywhere, haven’t you?” Q realized. “I couldn’t ask for someone better to show me places. Though I might surprise you.”

“I don’t imagine you get to travel much in Q-branch,” James reflected.

“No, but I took a year off after the war to get away from the U.K.,” Q said, twirling another small bite of pasta on his fork to eat.

“Where did you go?”

Q chewed and swallowed. “Oh, here and there. Italy. The beaches of southern France. The Canaries. The Himalayas. Anywhere that looked interesting.”

James smiled. “How did you manage all of that?”

“Oh, I have family money. I really don’t have to work, but I’d go spare if I didn’t do something,” Q admitted. “And I really needed time alone to figure myself out. I went where the wind took me for that year, and it was good for me.”

“I can imagine,” James murmured, thinking about his own habit of disappearing after particularly tough missions. He cleared his throat. “I sort of do the same, after a really bad one.”

Q softened, swallowing another bite and reaching for James’ hand, in easy reach on the table. “I understand the impulse, as you can see. There’s something healing about being free from responsibilities, seeing something new, exploring some new city or beach or experience. It reminds us that there actually is a point to the bad stuff. Why we do it, I mean.”

James squeezed Q’s fingers, lightly. “Maybe that’s it.”

“I haven’t been anywhere on holiday for quite some time, though,” Q noted, squeezing back. “Perhaps after we clear up this business in Egypt, we could take some time somewhere.”

“I’d enjoy that, Q,” James said, looking into emerald green eyes. “I’d enjoy a holiday with just us, maybe in a beachfront somewhere.”

“Or in a little cabin in the woods, with the snow outside,” Q added dreamily.

“Or in a five-star hotel where all we had to worry about was what to order from room service before we hopped into our own personal hot tub.” James wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Q laughed.

“That one,” he said. “Definitely that one.” Q chased the last of the sauce on his plate with last of a warm breadstick. “Dessert?”

“They make a lovely tiramisu here,” James agreed.

“Then let’s.”

James nodded, then flagged down the waiter.

IMBM

“I ate way too much,” Q groaned as they trod up the flight of steps to his flat.

“But it was very, very good,” James agreed. 

“Absolutely.” Q laid a hand on his door to read the wards, then pulled out his key to open the lock. “All clear here.” They stepped inside, and Q divested himself of jacket and shoes in the little foyer, tossing the former on the hook and the latter onto the mat. James followed suit, and they made their way to the sofa in front of the large flatscreen TV in Q’s livingroom, leaning into each other as they sat, wallowing in each other’s company.

“Movie? Telly? Sex?” Q teased.

“Hmmm….” James hummed as if in thought. “Such decisions on a full stomach.”

“Truly.” Q curled around his belly and laid his head in James’ lap. “How about movie now, sex later?”

James leaned down and kissed Q’s forehead. “Perfect.”

It turned out that Q had left the final “Lord of the Rings” movie in the player, so he just pressed play and the film spun out on the big screen. The lovers cuddled together, more interested in holding each other than actually watching the film, but the movie gave them a good excuse to snog lazily as their stomachs settled.

On screen, Aragorn had just rushed the Uruk-Hai at the black gates when a light flashed across the room with a pop and sizzle. Q sat up.

“What was that?” James asked.

“That was someone with ill intent trying to get through my wards,” Q explained. “They’ll be sitting in a Ministry holding cell about now.”

“Who would be trying to get in here?”

Q shrugged. “My location is classified, but it’s possible we were followed. I didn’t see anyone, but …” The pop-and-sizzle light show happened again. “And there’s another one. Interesting.” Q grabbed the tablet on his coffee table and pulled up the hall cameras. “One’s trying to get in the front door, still. Oh, and there he goes.” Pop-and-sizzle. Q typed a bit more on the tablet, identifying ward access points. “One got tossed at the bedroom window, one at the skylight, and one at the door.”

“Why would a team with ‘bad intentions’ be trying to break into your flat?” James asked, an edge of cold permeating the words. “And how do your wards define ‘bad intentions’?”

“Could be anything from intent to rob, maim and murder to intent to interrupt whatever I’m doing,” Q said. “Anyone trying to break into my flat for purposes other than my safety and protection gets bounced.”

James quirked a grin. “That’s how you knew I had the best of intentions when I was here the other night.”

“Yep,” Q said, tapping a few more keys before pulling out his cell and calling Kingsley to confirm the Auror holding cells had three more for questioning.

IMBM

 

“Seriously?” Q asked, eying the miscreants on the floor of the holding cell. “Your wives will either have a laugh or get seriously annoyed.”

Ron and George Weasley looked up sheepishly. “We were just looking for a bit of fun,” George said. “Haven’t pranked you in ages. Figured out where you were, and, well. Oops.”

“So you’d be the skylight and window, most likely,” Q mused. “Who’s the other bloke?”

“Him we’d never seen before, mate,” Ron denied. “So they put him in the next cell over.”

Q raised an eyebrow, then turned to leave. 

“Oi, you going to leave us here?” George asked, panicked.

“Breaking and entering, George, is a serious crime,” Q said solemnly. “I hope this teaches you the errors of your ways.” 

“Wait!”

Q cackled as he shut their door and texted Hermione. “That ought to be enough punishment for now,” he commented to James, who’d been relaxing against the wall opposite the door. “George and Ron on a prank. Hermione’s going to get Angelina and they’ll come and bail them out when they’re ready. Someday.” Q paused at the next door. “They didn’t know this guy, though.” 

James stepped up behind him as Q opened the window in the top of the solid door to see who was in the cell.

A big, beefy blond man rolled his eyes at the pair of them. “James, you take up with our Quartermaster, and I’m the one on the inside of a holding cell?”

“Alec, what were you doing trying to break into Q’s flat?” James asked.

“Yes, 006, do explain yourself,” Q said dryly.

Alec cleared his throat. “I may have been planning to harass the pair of you a bit. Perhaps. I saw you at Angelo’s earlier and followed you back.”

“What do you know about the other two?” James asked sternly.

“Nothing. I didn’t even see you had other company, to be frank.”

“Disillusionment charms,” Q murmured. “But this is quite a coincidence.”

“That three of our best friends should choose to disturb our peace on our first real date-type evening as a couple?” James commented. “Are you sure they don’t know each other?”

“They must never know each other,” Q said firmly. “The world is at stake. The pranking, James. I shudder. Think of the children.”

James shuddered himself, having been told a tale or two about Weasley pranks. Putting them together with notorious mischief-maker Alec Trevalyan? “Alec, do you know where you are?” James asked.

“Some sort of holding cell. How I got here is a mystery--I assume Q has invented teleportation of some kind,” Alec reflected. “He’s brilliant, as you well know, my friend.”

“I do,” James acknowledged. “But the answer is a bit more complex than that.”

“I gathered,” Alec said. “Any chance I can get out of here?”

Q rolled his eyes. “You can’t know where this place is, 006.” Q thought for a second. “So, blindfold it is. James, keep an eye on him, will you?” At James’ nod, Q stepped back out and turned his back on the cell to conjure a black silk blindfold with a temporary blinding enchantment. He stepped back in, and wrapped it around Alec’s eyes, wordlessly activating the spell to keep Alec blind.

“Good?” Q asked.

“Can’t see a bloody thing,” Alec confirmed. “Unnerving, this.”

“Aw, you’re a battle-hardened double-oh,” James teased. “A little blindfold is nothing for you.”

Q rolled his eyes at their antics. “Come along then. We’ll walk you out.” Q took one of Alec’s elbows, smirked at the holding cell with Ron and George, and ruthlessly walked away. James grinned and followed.

IMBM

“I fall under a special dispensation,” James explained to Alec as the blindfold was removed from his eyes in public square a few blocks from the public entrance to the Ministry for Magic. “I’m allowed to know where you just were because Q is my partner.”

“As in…?”

“We’re trying to make a go of being a couple, yes,” James said. “Now shut your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

Q rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, 006, it’s good to see you. Glad you’re back from Hong Kong. Report in tomorrow. And remember: call before coming over. And definitely before you try picking the locks.”

Alec grinned at them both. “Yes, sir, Q. I’ll talk to you later, James.” He winked and strolled off to the nearest tube entrance while James and Q watched him go.

“And we know he was telling the truth because?” James asked. “He’s my oldest friend, but ‘bad intent’ is a defining parameter.”

“There’s a truth compulsion on the holding cells,” Q said quietly. “He was planning to harass us, and that was enough to get him bounced. But there was no intent to do true harm, I don’t think.”

James shook his head and turned to his partner. “Feeling better?”

Q smiled at him. “Yes, now that you mention it.”

“Back to your place, then?”

“Absolutely.”

This time, when they got to Q’s apartment, they skipped the couch, and headed straight for Q’s bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. 

A naked Q landed flat on his back in the middle of his bed with a grunt, to be followed by a moan as a naked James landed on top of him, skin sliding together deliciously as James mouthed Q’s collarbone, then nipped Adam’s apple, before tracing the contours of his chest and abdomen with his mouth.

“You, taste, delicious,” James murmured quietly, his low voice causing spikes in Q’s arousal. 

“James,” Q moaned, threading his hands through James’ short blond hair and tugging it as each spike hit him. James said nothing, but growled pleasurably as he worked his way down to Q’s hips, nibbling hip bones, kissing an inner thigh, and generally avoiding the thick, luscious cock that begged for his attention between Q’s legs.

Q gave a moan of frustration. “James, please,” he begged. 

James looked up at him, ice blue eyes twinkling. “As you wish,” he said.

Then he swallowed him down.

Q gasped at the abrupt wet heat that engulfed him, shuddering violently as James set to sucking him in earnest. He shut his eyes against the sensation building, trying to hold out, but James didn’t stop--except to pull off and growl, “Come.”

As James’ mouth descended again, Q did come, lost in the maelstrom that was James Bond. James worked him through it, then sat up to kiss him, deeply. “Alright?” he asked quietly. 

“Mmmm,” Q hummed in agreement. “Give us a mo’ and I’ll do you.”

James kissed him again. “Not a good idea without a condom, at least until the last round of tests from medical comes back.”

Q pouted, then rolled away from James to grab the lubricant he kept in his bedside table. Squirting a bit into his hand, he rolled back and reached for James’ cock. “Kiss me,” Q whispered, and James pressed him down, invading Q’s mouth with his tongue as Q worked him to completion.

Spent, they lay there for a moment before Q cleaned off his hand and James’ belly. James waited until Q was finished, then drew him back into his arms, turning so they both lay on their sides, James pressing his chest to Q’s back.

“How did you know I was clean?” Q asked drowsily.

“Deduction. And a peek at your medical files when I was there on Monday,” James replied quietly.

“Spies,” Q said, a hint of exaggerated disbelief in his tone.

“Yep,” James confirmed, and cuddled closer.


	19. Chapter 18: Waiting Game Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which many things are revealed to various people.

Chapter 18: Waiting Game Revelations

The following few weeks sped swiftly by as Q kept an eye on the warehouse, James worked on his physical therapy, and Severus kept an eye on the Malfoys. 

In a meeting with M and Kingsley just a week after the initial surveillance was set up, the five had agreed the best course of action was to gather intel on the Ouroboros and intervene before they caused mass mayhem. Kingsley wanted evidence that he could take to the Wizengamot to have the participants arrested; M looked at a more final solution, but was persuaded that taking out the head, in this case, would not mean that the body would fall.

Lucius Malfoy had planned too well for that.

It had been made abundantly clear that Lucius had a small, tight team that knew everything, and any one of them could step in to make the plans work. All of that team would have to go; the warehouse would have to “disappear,” and the rest incarcerated to completely eliminate the threat.

Q advised against making a move until all members of Lucius’ elite team had been identified, so that all could be eliminated at once. Infiltration was still a priority, but the surveillance was surprisingly effective at gathering details. Q copied M and Kingsley on weekly reports, and began building dossiers on each of the members identified.

Severus spent time with Draco, using Legilimency to try to slowly repair his mind. The work was slow-going; Draco had been trapped in his own nightmares for more than a year, and his mental landscape was scarred and smoking. Severus believed that bringing in Astoria Greengrass might help, but they could not risk the possibility that Lucius might catch on that he was compromised. Astoria had to remain in the dark.

James spent the promised time with the physical therapists, re-training his body and bringing it back to what it should be. His age, and a lifetime of bad habits, worked against him, but James was determined to be at his physical peak for the magical mission he knew was coming. He divided his time between the facilities at MI6 and Q’s flat, making no progress toward finding his own.

Q privately thought James preferred to spend his time at Q’s. Q had no objections.

Meanwhile, life at MI6 marched on. Q supervised missions, invented new toys, and spent nights with his favorite double-oh. 

And waited.

IMBM

“We need another double-oh in on the special secret,” Q told M bluntly. “If we’re going to deal with the threat effectively, we need a team that can deal with it effectively. Another double-oh would help enormously.”

M considered him. “Who do you have in mind?”

“006.” Q looked M in the eye. “I sprang him from Ministry cells last week when he got bounced there after trying to break into my apartment. I ensured he didn’t know where he was, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s got suspicions already. Given he’s a friend of the only double-oh in the know, as well as one of our best agents, he’d be perfect.”

M nodded. “At your discretion, Q. Who does that leave us to work with?”

“That gives us 007, 006, and 002, only one of whom has magic. Kingsley has briefed one of his most trusted as well. If necessary, I’d go into the field, but there are advantages and disadvantages to that.”

“We’ll have to work those out with MOM,” M said, pronouncing the acronym as if it were his mother. “You are clearly a valuable asset to both worlds, and we shouldn’t risk you if we don’t have to.”

Q accepted that with a nod of his own. “I agree, objectively. But it’s hard not to offer my assistance on a magical mission.”

M leaned back in his office chair. “I’ve gotten the idea, from my talks with Kingsley, that you’re somewhat of a legend among the populace there?”

Q shrugged. “Yes.”

“Why choose to hide here, then?”

“In part, I thought I could be more useful here, sir,” Q explained quietly. “I played a significant role in defense in the last war, as a teen, and I needed some space to learn how to be myself. Kingsley and the previous M gave me an opportunity to do that, in exchange for my assistance. And I thoroughly love my job, M. I can’t imagine doing anything else at this point.”

M smiled faintly. “Glad to hear it.” He leaned back up. “At this point, I’m reluctant to order you to the field. Let’s see what plans we can develop that don’t involve you jumping in with anything other than your tech and your wits. And yes, you’ve got permission from me to inform 006. It will be good to have another agent ready for such missions.”

Q agreed. “I think it’ll be critical in the future. We’re already seeing an increase in the number of missions that need to deal with special problems, and I’m running out of long-winded sophistry to explain the special tools I send out with our agents.”

M laughed at that. “I can only imagine.”

Q glanced at his tablet, checked the time, and stood. “I’ll take care of briefing 006, then.” He paused, then glanced at M again. “Sir, a quick personal question? You can feel free to decline to answer.”

“Of course.”

“Are you by any chance related to the Riddle family?”

M raised an eyebrow. “My great-grandmother was a Riddle. She married into the Mallory family at the turn of the 20th century. Why?”

“You just look a bit like someone I used to know,” Q explained. “I was curious.”

“As far as I know, Q, the Riddles died out in the 1940s. No one’s quite sure what happened, but my grandfather’s cousin, his wife and son all were killed somehow at their own estate,” M offered. 

Q considered. “Sir, would you like to know what happened to them?”

It clicked. “Is there something special about the event?”

“Yes.”

M perked up. “Do tell. It’s a family mystery that we’ve always wondered about.”

Q sat back down. “The wizard who called himself the Dark Lord Voldemort, the man who I was responsible for taking out in the last war, was born Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was the bastard son of Tom Riddle of Little Hangleton and a local witch, Merope Gaunt. And we believe his first murders were that of his father and grandparents at Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton.”

M’s face went sheet white. “You’re telling me the worst Dark Lord in recent history was my cousin?”

“Apparently,” Q confirmed quietly. 

Silence reigned for a moment, then M shook his head slowly. “I can never tell the rest of the family this,” he said. “They must never know.”

“For a multitude of reasons,” Q agreed solemnly. “But I thought you should know, if anyone should.”

“You have my thanks.” M cleared his throat. “Is there more you can tell me about him? Not now, of course. I need to think about this. But if there’s any potential for that sort of evil in the rest of us --”

Q jumped in quickly. “No. Not as far as I know. Tom’s mother used a love potion on the older Tom to entrap him, and he left her when it wore off. Tom was born of deception in an orphanage, and his mother died after giving birth to him. She was of a line of purebloods that had practiced inbreeding for centuries. There’s no doubt that Tom was insane, and there’s no doubt, to my mind at least, that his insanity came through the Gaunt line, not his father’s.”

“Still, you’ll answer questions if I have more?”

“Of course, M.”

IMBM

James found a harried Q buried under what looked like reams of paperwork in his office later that afternoon.

Q looked up. “James, have you come to rescue me? Please?”

James laughed. “Do you often need rescuing from paperwork?”

“Only every other week,” Q muttered, moving one stack to the left. “I’ve managed to convert almost everything to electronic file systems, but some reports from the field can only be done in paper. They get digitized here, of course. I’d normally have a minion do this, but this particular report is eyes-only out of Bangkok, and special.”

James nodded, recognizing the euphemism for magic. “Can I help?” 

“Unfortunately, no,” Q said reluctantly. “But it won’t take me much longer. I do have a minor mission for you, though, if you’re willing.”

“A minor mission?”

“We get to tell Alec about how very special we are,” Q said coyly. “M agreed we needed another agent in the know.”

James got a gleam in his eye. “Oh, really? What have you got in mind?”

“Remember George and Ron?”

“I remember you telling me we had to avoid introducing the three of them at all costs.”

“Yes, well, now I think it would funny if we set Alec up.”

James laughed, loudly. “It would. So long as we catch him in the right mood. I’d rather your friends didn’t get shot.”

“I’m sure they’d rather that, too,” Q allowed.

“Alec’s in the fitness center now. Why don’t I invite him out to dinner with us? You can have your chat with him, so he’s at least forewarned, and then unleash the Weasleys,” James proposed.

“Fair warning first, given that the Weasleys have an advantage?” Q pondered. “I suppose. Take all my fun. I was mostly thinking it would be fun to gaslight Alec a bit with things he should think aren’t possible until we did a reveal.”

“Oh, you are a bit evil, aren’t you?”

“What can I say? My father was a Marauder.”

“What’s a Marauder?”

James took a seat, and was thoroughly educated, and entertained, by the story of Q’s father and friends at Hogwarts.

“And so,” James concluded, “you are the son and godson of legendary pranksters, and wish to carry on a proud tradition by starting a prank war between men who are legendary pranksters in their own rights?”  
“With us safely on the sidelines, watching in silent glee,” Q confirmed. “I’ll even make popcorn.”

James grinned evilly. “Invite Ron and George to dinner, too, then. We’ll simply nudge them in the right direction--pointed at each other.”

“Perfect. And it’ll be good training for Alec, too.”

“Hadn’t thought of that angle,” James admitted. “But it makes sense.”

“You call Alec, and I’ll patronus Ron and George to meet us outside in a hour for dinner, if they’re free. I’ll text you if the plan has to change for some reason,” Q said.

“Works for me.”

They split off.

IMBM

Ron and George were, indeed, free for dinner, as they’d just closed up shop and had been told to make up with Harry. (As if pranksters needed to do such a thing. Women, they’d agreed, and kept quiet. But it provided a good excuse to have dinner with their old mate.)

They met up with Q, James, and Alec outside of MI6, made introductions, and the unlikely group set off for a Russian restaurant a few blocks away that Alec swore was as close to authentic as one could get outside of the Moscow.

The daily menu changed depending on the freshness and availability of ingredients, and their meals were dictated by the chef, who seemed older than the Russian steppes from which she’d come. 

“Ivana, darling,” Alec gestured boisterously as he bounced into the place. “It’s been too long!”

She slapped his knuckles with a spoon. “Keep your hands to yourself, young one,” she said to the sound of low amused chuckles in the group. “You’ll take that table in the corner over there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said dutifully, and the rest followed him decorously to a round corner table of some dark wood with six heavy, dark chairs surrounding it. In the center of the table, a revolving circular platform held, to start, warm rye bread and fresh butter. As the men seated themselves, Ivana herself came back out to set down a tureen of hot potato-and-leek soup with sour cream and dill on the side, and place bowls at five places. 

“You’ll start with this,” she said gruffly, and waved at a young server. “Drinks, here.”

The server rushed to comply, taking drink orders as Alec started serving them all up. 

“Oh, this is good,” Ron said, moaning. “Alec, mate, you can pick the place anytime.”

Alec preened. “Thanks. It’s my favorite.”

George leaned forward to take a slice of the warm bread and dip it in his soup. “Agreed.”

Q grinned and grabbed his own slice of bread for dipping. 

Conversation flew among the five, with Ron and George outlining their new line of pranks--uncensored, as Q had told them they’d be filling Alec in before too long--and begging James for details of Q’s sex life, which he’d laughingly declined, to their--and Alec’s--disappointment.

Soup gave way to a luscious roasted pork loin, served with a tart cherry sauce and buttered dumplings, followed by thick slices of sour cream cheesecake.

“That,” James said, sighing heavily at the end of the meal, “will put off my training routine by at least a week.”

Q shook his head. “Not at all, James. It’ll just help you with your bulking up.”

“Yeah, I’d think he likes your bulk, James,” George said slyly.

Ron shook his head. “Too much information, mate.”

“It’s true, though,” Alec chimed in. “I’ve never seen our boffin here so enamoured of a co-worker before, not even me. And of course we know, I am the best eye candy in the division.” 

“The most humble, too,” Q said dryly.

“Boffin?” Ron asked.

Q replied smoothly, “It’s a term for someone locked in a lab with a computer all day, essentially. A person who plays with all the tech toys, all the time.”

“Ah,” Ron said, as Alec’s brow furrowed. 

Q watched Alec closely for a moment, knowing that the agent was trying to figure out why the term “boffin” had to be defined for these two friends. Alec said nothing, however, so Q moved on. “Have you seen my latest toy?” Q asked Ron.

“What’ve you got, mate?”

Q pulled out his smart phone and handed it over, tapping a movie app on the screen as he passed it over. Opening credits scrolled on the screen as Ron grinned, looking it over. “It’s like a telly for your pocket!”

“I can’t take credit for the telly part,” Q said, “but the phone’s my design.”

“You can call on it, too?” Ron asked enthusiastically. “Mione’s just does the calling thing. I’ve finally got that down if I need it.”

Alec started to assess all he’d heard. Inventors of increasingly ludicrous pranks--that don’t know what a smart phone is. That have never heard the word ‘boffin.’

Something was definitely off, though the pair of redheads across from him were introduced as Q’s oldest friends. And James didn’t seem to be concerned by them.

“How is it you don’t know what smartphone is?” Alec asked seriously, looking at George. 

George smirked. “We don’t need them where we come from, though they’re handy. I’ve seen Q’s work before.”

“And where is that?”

Q glanced around, then palmed the Elder Wand from where he now kept it, holstered to his right forearm, and waved it in a tight circle, casting privacy wards. “Right here, Alec. In England. In a society parallel to the one you know.”

Alec was staring at the stick of wood in Q’s hand. “Is that a magic wand?” He asked bluntly.

“Yes.”

“Huh,” Alec said, then paused, and blurted out, “I guess Babushka knew what she was talking about!”


	20. Chapter 19: Alec's Babushka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which revelations abound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay--my baby had a baby late last week! I'm officially a grandma! And we're all tired. Here's a bit o' magical reveal and some sexy times. I'm too happy for angst at the moment. :)

Chapter 19: Alec’s Babushka

 

“Babushka?” James raised an eyebrow. “You have a Babushka?”

“Had a Babushka, James,” Alec rolled his eyes. “And yes, of course. I didn’t spring full formed from the earth at Mother Russia’s feet, after all.”

Q, entertained, added, “But that’s a much better story.”

“True,” George chimed in. “Bit of a legend going with that one.”

“Can one spring full-formed from earth?” Ron wondered aloud, a gleam in his eye.

“Perhaps if one’s a fully magical creature,” Q allowed. “Which Alec is not.”

“Well, then,” Alec broke in to what promised to be a highly entertaining banter. “Let me enlighten you. My Babushka told me wonderful stories about magic and dragons and witches in hopping pots and three brothers who met Death and … well, she had what she said was a magic wand. But I was six when she died, and my parents were gone, too, and I was sent to an orphanage.”

“And eventually joined the Navy, met me, and we went into Intelligence together,” James finished.

Q sat back. “So your grandmother was likely a witch, Alec. Has anyone ever approached you or tested you to see if you have magical potential, yourself?”

“Not at all,” Alec said. “Thought it was all stories until you pulled your own wand there, Q.”

James smirked, but refrained from the obvious innuendo. Q rolled his eyes at him, and George and Ron snorted at the silent exchange. 

“The sad thing is, Q doesn’t even need a wand, really,” Ron commented with a smirk of his own.

“Ah, but I do love his wand,” James commented, unable to restrain himself any further.

The Weasley men started laughing. “As - long - as - he - knows - how - to - use - it,” George gasped out. 

“Alright, enough,” Q said with a grin and a wink at James. “So, Alec, there’s much more to learn and know about, but I think we ought to see if you have magical potential. I’ve no idea how Russia identifies its magicals, and with your age when your grandmother died, it’s possible you slipped through the cracks somewhere. Would you mind a few tests, back in my lab?”

“Not at all, Q,” Alec grinned back. “I can’t wait. Just knowing that my Babushka wasn’t a crazy lady is enough for me, but I’d be glad to know if I have magic.”

“Odds are, Q, that he’d know a bit already,” George pointed out, wiping his eyes. “Ever done something you couldn’t explain, Alec? When you were angry or scared?”

“Or otherwise emotionally comprised?” James asked, remembering. “For example, on that mission to Botswana?”

Alec sat back, surprised. He remembered that mission very well, and the leap he’d made across what seemed like an impossible chasm. But James was on the other side, and about to die. He’d made the leap. 

“I just thought I was that good,” Alec admitted.

“Botswana?” Q asked, and started tapping into his ever-present tablet. “Ah. Mission specs said you somehow leapt an impossible distance.”

“To save this git’s life.” Alec pointed at James.

“Well, it worked,” James said with a shrug. 

“And I thank you,” Q added. “It’s enough anecdotal evidence for me to really want to test you, now. That said, Alec, you need to be in the know because some missions are coming up that require that knowledge, and we will likely need more than one double-oh to handle them.”

Alec nodded. “Makes sense. And as I was caught up in your little, apparently magical, trap a few weeks back, I was elected?”

Q nodded. “And you’re James’ best friend. That makes you family. And family gets to know.”

James grinned at him. “Think of the possibilities, Alec.”

Alec grinned wickedly in return.

“Of course, if you do have magic, Alec, that changes things slightly,” Q said. “You’ll need training. That’s partially why I introduced you to these two.”

George and Ron straightened up a bit. “What do you need, Ha--Q?”

“What, is he a Japanese poem now?” Alec asked.

Q rolled his eyes. “That exceeds your brief at this time, Alec, gentlemen. In fact, it would be an excellent training mission for you. Who am I in the magical world?” He looked straight at the Weasley brothers. “No helping. No hints.”

“Got it, Q,” George agreed.

“Do my best, mate,” Ron said, “but you know I’m rubbish at everyday secrets.”

“That’s why you’re not in Intelligence, true,” Q said. “But give it a shot.”

James smiled at that. Alec already had the weak spot to press, didn’t he?

The group finished up their meal, and parted ways with Ron and George, the pair giving Alec their phone numbers. 

IMBM

Q brought Alec and James back to his warded lab at MI6. “Magical potential,” Q said softly, thinking about how to go about this. He pursed his lips and gestured to a stool in the middle of the lab. “Have a seat, Alec.”

Alec obliged. “What are you going to do, Q?” 

“First, I’m going to see if you have a magical core. It’s a quick spell. You’ll light up blue if you have a core, red if not. Then we’ll gauge power levels.” Q stepped back. “Ready?”

“Anytime.”

“Revela magicis.” Q swept the Elder wand down Alec’s body.

And it lit up blue.

“Wow,” Q said softly. 

“Look at that, mate,” James said with a low whistle. “You’re a magical.”

“Wicked,” Alec grinned.

Q smiled brightly. “That’s wonderful, Alec.”

“Has James ever been tested?” Alec asked.

Q turned around and looked at him. “Have you?”

James shook his head no. “But I’d have been caught, I imagine, living in proximity to Hogwarts as I did as a child. And I couldn’t see it until Severus did that spell, remember?”

Q nodded. “Of course. So you should light up red. Do you mind?”

“Be my guest.”

“Revela magicis.” James lit up red.

“Confirmed,” Q said softly.

Alec bounced up and down in his seat. “Does this mean I can do magic?”

Q laughed. “Probably. And that will be useful for some of our future missions. Let’s check your core.” He leveled his wand at Alec’s midsection. “Revela core campester.” This time, Alec glowed a dark green. “Hmm.” Q did the spell again. Dark green. “Average magical strength. The scale is on a rainbow, red to purple. Red is no magic levels, orange low, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. The strongest wizards actually glow white, because their core levels top out above violet.”

“How do you glow, Q?” James asked, curious.

“You know, I’ve never bothered to try it on myself,” Q said. “I’m obviously strong, and I would have been tested in the academy, but ended up in uni instead, so I skipped it.”

James gestured. “No time like the present.”

“S’pose so.” Q turned his wand on himself. “Revela core campester.” He lit up a blinding, bright white, and Alec and James had to turn their eyes away. “Oh, wow, sorry,” Q mumbled. “Finite.”

James looked back at his partner. “Guess they weren’t kidding when they said you were the most powerful wizard known at the moment,” he commented casually.

Q shrugged. Alec stared, knowing he’d just been given a huge clue, then shook himself mentally and pointed at his own midsection. “Still green here.”

“Oh, sorry.” Q pointed his wand at Alec again. “Finite.” The glow faded.

“So, now what?” Alec wanted to know.

Q tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I think we need to send you for specialized training. I’ll get with M and his counterpart in the Ministry of Magic. If all goes according to plan, we’ll need you sooner rather than later on mission.”

“Yes, sir,” Alec saluted cheekily.

“Smartarse.”

“As always,” Alec agreed.

Q shook his head. “Off you go then. Report tomorrow, 1000. I need to conference with M before I deliver a brief for you.”

Alec hopped off his stool and headed for the door. “Must ring up George,” he said. “Some of those pranks had potential.” He winked and left.

“Oh, dear God,” Q said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re the one who thought it would be funny, dear,” James pointed out, grinning.

“And so it will. Later,” Q allowed, then turned to step up to his partner, leaning his head on James’ shoulder. James wrapped his arms around Q and whispered in his ear. “You know it doesn’t matter to me, right?” James said softly. “You’re Harry. And you’re my Q. And that’s all I need to know.”

Q nodded into his shoulder, and huffed a little bit. “I’m glad, James. I left that world for a reason, and that was just a pretty clear reminder that I’m not ordinary in that world.”

James rubbed his back a bit. “You do realize you’re not ordinary in any sense, don’t you? You’re brilliant, in all senses of the word, and you do amazing work that helps protect the world on a regular basis. I’d wager you’ve always been brilliant, darling, but that’s simply who you are. And I love who you are.”

Q lifted his head a bit to look into James’ eyes. What he read there made him smile, just a little. “You mean that, don’t you?”

“I do,” James kissed him lightly. “I love you, just exactly as you are.”

Q took a deep, shaky, breath. “I love you, too.”

IMBM

They left the lab, Q shooting a message off to M requesting a meeting for 0800 the next day, and headed to Q’s flat, holding hands. Q let them in the front door, and James pounced.

“Lube,” he whispered into Q’s ear as he laved it with his tongue. “Condoms.” 

“Purchased, placed.” Q whispered back, unbuttoning James’ jacket and dress shirt and shoving them off his shoulders. “Bedside table drawer.”

They’d given each other pleasure in the few weeks they’d been together, but had held off on penetration, waiting for James’ tests to clear and the moment to be right. 

Declarations of love seemed to open that door. And the moment couldn’t be more right. They left a trail of clothing as they worked their way to Q’s bedroom and the bed, where James paused. “What do you want, Harry?” James whispered. “Top or bottom?”

Harry smiled up at his lover. “Tonight? I want you in me, James.”

“As you wish, love.” James feathered his fingers over Harry’s face and kissed him, deeply, before gently pressing him back on the bed. Harry fell lightly on his back, spreading his knees, waiting for James to cover him. James reached for the promised supplies, pulling out the lube and wetting his fingers. “I imagine there’s a magical way to do this,” James murmured. “But I’d prefer to have you writhing under my hands.”

Harry moaned. “I’d prefer that, too.”

James took his time, teasing Harry’s entrance with a fingertip, then one finger, then two, listening as Harry’s cries of pleasure grew increasingly desperate. When Harry was well prepared, James rolled a condom on, slathered himself with lube, and pressed inside his partner, who keened at the feel of it. 

They needed no words as they moved together, pleasure and desperation building as they worked in tandem until it crested, and a white light encased them both.


	21. Chapter 20: What was that?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James reassures Q, again, and a plan is hatched.

**Chapter 20: What was that?**

 

Harry’s eyes widened and his body stiffened as something intangible shifted into place inside him, and clicked.

“Oh, shit,” he said softly, petting James’ hair. James chuckled a bit and nuzzled into Harry’s neck.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had that reaction,” James drawled slowly, then dragged his tongue over Harry’s collarbone. “Are you all right?” At Harry’s non-response, James drew back. “Harry?”

Harry looked up at James, trying not to hyperventilate. “James … I’m sorry.”

James frowned. “For what?”

“Please don’t freak out. Please,” Harry pleaded.

James gathered Harry to him, disengaging from his body and curling them both to their sides, and looked into Harry’s emerald eyes. “Darling, you seem to be the one freaking out. I’m fine. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt better.”

Inexplicably, tears appeared in those eyes. “James, my magic … did you feel that?”

“I think they felt that in Scotland,” James confirmed. “Is sex always like that for wizards?”

Harry shook his head and buried his face in James’s neck. “No. It only happens when magic decides the participants in the act need to be bound together.”

“Bound together?” James raised an eyebrow. “Did you just marry me, Harry?”

Harry mumbled into his neck.

“What was that?” James grinned widely. 

Harry drew back. “The term is bonded. I didn’t even know that could happen with a non-magical. I’m so sorry, James. If I’d known that was possible, I’d have warned you.”

James stroked Harry’s messy black hair. “Sex doesn’t always lead to bonding, does it?”

“No, only between two who have genuine love for each other, and who magic deems compatible,” Harry said miserably. “It’s the basis for the persistence of the legends of soul mates. It’s not that we’re literally one soul split in half; it’s that our souls are compatible, and magic took advantage of our physical and emotional state to bind us together. It’s a recognition that we’re, well, meant to be, I guess.”

“And you think I’d be unhappy with that?”

“You didn’t have a choice, James! Magic just bound you. You didn’t even know you could be bound. And now you’re stuck with me,” Harry said quietly. “I don’t even know if you wanted anything close to a lifetime commitment to me.”

James petted Harry some more, soothing long strokes of his hands over Harry’s back and. “Do you recall my telling you that I wanted to see what there could be between us?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall my using the term ‘partner’ to describe your relationship to me in my first introduction to Severus?”

“Yes.”

“And do you recall my telling you that I was ready to find James again?”

“Yes.”

James kissed Harry’s forehead gently. “Then you should know already that I was prepared to see if we could be life partners. My track record is not the best with love, as you know. In the field, I have to use sex as a weapon sometimes to get what we need to complete a mission. We’ll have to talk about that, Harry, as I don’t know yet how to reconcile that. But I already know you’d never betray me, as I would never betray you; that I love you, truly; and I was already planning to ask you to live with me, and try to build a life with me. Maybe magic knew all of that?”

“Maybe.” Harry thought past his own sense of guilt at binding James without his overt consent, and realized that the binding only could have happened with James’ full consent, however implicit it was. “Probably.”

“How do you feel about being bound to me?” James asked softly.

Thinking past his initial self-recriminations, Harry thought about that. How did he feel about being with James for life? He assessed the place in his being that had clicked as the white light had encased him, and realized he felt pretty damn good about it.

Harry smiled up at James. “I can’t imagine a better partner than a man I respect, admire, and love. I do want to be with you, James, and if you’d asked me before magic stepped in, I’d have said yes to building a life with you.”

James squeezed Harry tightly, then bent slightly to lay his lips on Harry’s own in a gentle kiss. “Then I’d say magic just recognized what was already there.”

IMBM

The repercussions of an accidental magical bonding didn’t surface immediately. Life went on with the same routine, though James moved the rest of his personal things into Q’s flat and they alerted M to their partnership, per regulations. Mallory made no fuss about the relationship, and privately thought it might do the pair of them good.

A week after their accidental bonding, Alec swept into Q’s office with a jaunty air, waving a newspaper in his hand.

“Q, dear fellow, I went by a certain shop today and spotted this on the counter,” Alec glanced around and gave a discreet wave of his new wand and a muttered “Muffliato.” Q rolled his eyes at idea that a privacy charm was the first thing the Weasleys had taught the agent. Alec continued, “And I do believe I have figured out who you are to the magical world.” He spread the front page out.

It was the Daily Prophet.

“Harry Potter bonds to a Bond!”

“Seriously?” Q groused. “Well, that didn’t take long. How did they know?”

Alec shook his head. “They don’t know much. I only know it’s you because, look, there, they’ve listed my good friend James Bond as being married to a man named Harry Potter. Married? Seriously, Q?” Alec rolled the paper back up. “When? How?”

“Give me that,” Q said, grabbing for the paper. He flattened it back out and began reading. “Ah, that.”

“What?” 

“I’d forgotten that paperwork is automatically generated in the Ministry of Magic for bondings, births and deaths,” Q muttered. “Someone came across the record generated when we bonded, and took it to the Prophet. Typical.”

“So, who’s Harry Potter?” Alec asked playfully.

Q scowled at him. “Someone who’s been hiding from the magical world for more than a decade. I can’t believe I’m still front-page news.”  
A tap at his door signaled Q to a visitor, and he waved a hand to dispel the privacy ward. “James? Something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” James said as he settled himself on Q’s visitor couch. “Saw Alec making a beeline for Q branch and thought I’d see what got him so riled up.”

Q handed him the paper, and James’ eyebrows shot up. “So much for private, then,” he muttered to himself, reading the article as Q fumed and Alec made himself comfortable on the edge of Q’s desk.

“This changes things,” Q muttered. “Lucius Malfoy will see that piece and know I’m still around somewhere. It will speed his timetable. Or make him rabbit.”

Alec looked at Q. “Are you really that important?”

“So they say,” Q said dryly. 

James read to the end of the article, then looked up. “You’re right, Q. This is going to make them move, one way or another.”

“We’ll need to move first,” Q said briskly, and started texting.

IMBM

A somber group met in an MI6 conference room. Kingsley, M, Severus, Alec, James and Q reviewed the surveillance reports and looked at potential mission specs. After briefly introducing Alec to Kingsley and Severus, Q took over the briefing.

“What it comes down to is this: from a British intelligence perspective, this group is a threat. We need to eliminate the threat,” Q said firmly. “MI6 is well within its purview to do so. We need a plan. And we likely need more magical assistance.”

“I don’t see why we need more than you and Severus, Q,” Kingsley said, looking things over. “With your resident double-ohs, you would make a strong stealth team, in and out, eliminate the target and call it a day.”

Q looked up. “I’m more valuable behind the scenes than in the field.”

“Bollocks,” Kingsley said bluntly. “You’re the most powerful wizard we know of today. In this case, we need you out front and doing damage.”

M shook his head. “I don’t know that I agree with that. You’re using Q as a club when he’s more useful, ultimately, behind the scalpel that excises threats.”

“You’re too used to thinking about Harry Potter as a weapon against the dark, Shacklebolt,” Severus reflected. “Too used to the mentality that one powerful wizard can make the only difference.”

Kingsley closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Perhaps, but my statement is true. The sheer raw power Q controls is feared by our community. It’s that fear, as well as his power, that will do the most damage.”

Q looked coldly back at Kingsley. “I will not be sacrificed for the greater good any longer, Kingsley. I died for that community once, and I will not do it again. Forget about the power of my birth name, and look at me--Q. Quartermaster of MI6. I do more good here behind the scenes than I ever would as a mouthpiece for the Ministry.”

Kingsley blew out the breath, Severus looked vaguely approving, and James and Alec smirked. M looked around the table, and leaned forward. “Gentlemen, this sounds like an old argument. Let’s look at the facts. We have a group of at least 50 magic users looking to incite a revolution in Britain. We know where they meet. We have established their routine, so we know when they meet. Surveillance tells us a large meeting will be held two days from now, on Friday, in the evening, in the Egyptian warehouse. New weapons will be displayed there, and the current head of the Ouroboros will be there as well.

“The mission will be to take out all of the players at once. The head of Ouroboros and his lieutenants need to be executed, and the rest rounded up. Are we agreed?”

Nods came from all quarters.

“Then what do we need to do to accomplish that?”

They worked out a plan.

Q would provide magic dampening field generators, which would be placed around the warehouse and activated by 006 and 002, working in tandem. When active, a disillusioned 007 would use a sniper rifle from a carefully placed, disillusioned tower, to take out Malfoy and his lieutenants from a distance, and 006 and 002 would use non-magical gas bombs to put the crowd to sleep. They’d bind the individual members with zip ties and magic suppressing bracelets and then portkey the lot to MI6 holding cells for processing and interrogation.

Q would be their eyes and ears, and if necessary, would provide on-site magical back-up in disguise. He would not alert the magic users that Harry Potter was alive, well and still working against the dark. M would stay at Q-branch, monitoring the mission and taking over for Q if his magical assistance became necessary.

The group broke up, plan in place, and Q headed back to his branch to start assembling equipment. Severus took Alec aside for additional magical training (though honestly, he told Alec, for this kind of thing a handgun was just as effective than a wand), and James headed to the rifle range for target practice. 

That left Kingsley and M to parse out the diplomatic details.

If all went according to plan, Ouroboros would be dissolved in forty-eight hours.


	22. Chapter 21: Target Eliminated; Mission Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Ourorboros go down, and their first mission is complete.

Chapter 21: Target Eliminated

 

Instead of landing the three double-ohs in the Egyptian hotel room that had served as their base to this point, Q’s portkey dropped the three in the shadows of the outbuilding to the south of the Ouroboros warehouse, early Friday morning.

Severus lay the shrunken tower on the sand nearby to unshrink it, watching it unfurl to a height that would allow James to see directly into the warehouse through the windows at the very top edge of the walls that abut the ceiling. A tap of his wand disillusioned the tower, except for a ladder that James scaled, sniper rifle and pack slung across his back, feeling his way across the solid structure. Severus followed, and disillusioned the man himself before slipping back down the ladder and disillusioning it, separately. He added Q’s special runic Notice-Me-Not wards to the tower structure, which he could feel with his fingertips, and stepped back to see the whole thing--James included--disappear.

The layers of disillusionment and Notice-Me-Not wards would hide James long enough for him to complete the execution portion of the mission.

“Well done,” Q said softly, in James’ ear. “I can’t even see you on satellite. You have the failsafe?

“Yes, Q,” James affirmed. “Tap the button on my bracelet and I’m visible, if I need to be.”

“Good.”

Q had prepared James well. It wasn’t the first time he’d lay in wait for a target, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but between the special electronic tablet prepared by Q for communication, the pack of food and supplies, and the disillusioned awning, it would be one of the more comfortable waits.

Severus scanned the warehouse for signs of life, then looked to see if any wards had been added since their last visit. Seeing none, Severus shrugged at the arrogance of the wizards who use the place, and pulled out his own pack. Alec followed suit, and they placed a string of magic dampeners around the warehouse to set off with a specialized charm Q taught them, when the time was right. Both men wore Notice-Me-Not bracelets, and planned to hide under James’ tower until the later fireworks.

Alec’s bag contained the zip ties and bracelets; Severus held on to the sleeping gas bombs, specially engineered by Q for this mission.

Alec took a moment. “Q, should we do a test run? Or are these one-time only?”

“Go ahead, Alec. Try it out. Severus, hold off on your side for now.”

“Acknowledged, Q.”

Alec dropped his new, ebony-and-dragon heartstring wand into his hand from his wrist holster, pointed it at the trigger, and said, “Statuit eam.”

Light flashed at the trigger and at each of the subsequent switches attached to the fiber optic cable used to connect them, and a quiet hum settled.

“Satellite infrared shows the cold spots,” Q confirmed. “Finite to turn them off.”

Alec pointed again and said, “Finite.”

The light triggers dimmed, and the hum diminished.

“Good, 006.”

Severus nodded. “Yes, well done, 006.”

Alec smiled briefly. “Looks like we’re ready.”

“Indeed.”

All they had to do was wait.

IMBM

A surreptitious cooling charm or two kept the invisible trio cool as the Egyptian sun reached its zenith and cracks of apparation began to alert them to the presence of wizards.

“They’re early,” James said quietly.

Q responded. “These are the grunts who will set up the meeting. And Lucius, I presume, who will be setting the agenda. We’re expecting at least 50 members by 1800.”

“Acknowledged.”

They recorded the arrivals, with Q quietly confirming identities in the background. Lucius Malfoy arrived at 4 p.m. and headed directly back to his office.

Severus scoffed quietly. “Not a single revelio charm.”

“He doesn’t think he has anything to fear, apparently,” Q responded. “It’s a non-magical warehouse in a non-magical area, and he doesn’t fear non-magicals. Only his Ouroboros know where he is, and they’re all trusted. I imagine he does a magical reveal in the office, but your bracelets dampen your magical signatures.”

“His failure to acknowledge the abilities of non-magicals will be his doom,” Severus said flatly.

“If all goes according to plan, yes,” Q affirmed.

They waited quietly, and as 1800 approached, the warehouse filled up. Q checked the images against the recruitment lists. “They’re all here,” he said. “And then some.”

“Acknowledged, Q.” Three voices in unison responded to the voice in their ears.

Q, at headquarters, grinned to himself. “Contacting M now for his back-up in house. Let the meeting get started. 007, do you have a clear sight line?”

“I do, Quartermaster,” James replied. “I have a clear sight line to the stage the grunts set up at the north end of the warehouse.”

“Excellent,” Q said, as M stepped into his office, shut the door, and walked behind him to view the screens. One showed the infrared view of the warehouse, one the black-and-white satellite view, and one was split with the camera views of the warehouse interior. “Good evening, sir.”

“Quartermaster.” M looked closely at the infrared. “Where are our agents?”

Q pointed to the shadows of the outbuilding. “There. The disillusionments are working well, but you can just see the shadow of the tower on the infrared if you look hard enough.”

M nodded. “And our targets?”

Q pointed to the interior warehouse images. “Getting ready for the meeting. As you can see here, there are more than 50 present, doing the meet-and-greet thing. Our primary targets are in the office and conference room, here, doing a pre-meeting. They’ll be filing out soon.” He pointed back to the infrared, where the heat signatures of the wizards were readily apparent. Each appeared to have a secondary heat signature just outside their skins. “That’s magic, on screen,” he showed M. “When 002 and 006 set off the dampening fields, that secondary aura should go cold. The wizards won’t notice they don’t have access to their magic until they try something, but if our timing is right, 007 will take out the ringleaders on stage at the same time 002 and 006 toss the sleeping gas bombs into the warehouse. They should all be sleeping in 10 seconds.”

“Are you prepared as back-up if necessary?” M asked.

Q nodded. “Have my portkey right here, and I’ve ensured I can use it from the back corner of my office if necessary.”

“Then proceed.”

“007, mission is a go. When you have the shots, take them. 002, 006, initiate dampening.”

Severus and Alec stepped out from the shadows to their triggers, quietly intoned “statuit eam,” and set off the dampeners.

In Q branch, the infrared display showed the wizards’ secondary auras as gone.

James watched the staging area as Lucius, Nott, and three other wizards filed across the stage, Lucius in the center. “Taking the shot,” James alerted his listeners, and as Lucius raised his hands for silence, James shot him between the eyes, and turned his rifle on the others on stage. Alec and Severus tossed the sleeping gas bombs through their prescribed windows, ignoring the shouts from inside as they circled the building.

Q watched on infrared as bodies started to fall. “Hold. They’re not all falling asleep. We have one misfire in the east corner, and about three members looking to make a break for it.”

“I don’t have eyes on that corner, Q,” James said.

“I’m heading that direction now,” Alec confirmed.

“If they get beyond the dampening barrier, shoot to kill, 006,” Q said. “If possible, contain alive.”

“Acknowledged,” Alec said as he came around the corner to face three panicking wizards with ineffective wands. “Boys, you really need to learn how to get along without magic,” he chided.

Then disabled all three without using his gun.

He pulled a set of zip ties out of an inner pocket. “002, I need magic suppressing cuffs on this end of the building.”

“On my way,” Severus said.

All three wizards were tied up and cuffed before Q gave them permission to enter the warehouse.

“Infrared shows the rest of the bodies asleep. Be alert. Your magic won’t work in there, either, until we finite the dampeners,” Q said. “I want them tied up before you do that.”

“Acknowledged, Q.”

“007, you’re clear to leave the tower and assist.”

“Acknowledged, Q.”

James tapped the failsafe button on his bracelet to become visible, then felt his way over to the disillusioned ladder and made his way down with his pack and equipment, setting them on the ground under the tower to hide them. He then joined Alec and Severus in the warehouse, zip-tying and cuffing the Ouroboros. Once that was complete, and the leaders’ deaths confirmed, Severus turned off the dampeners, and the prisoners and bodies were transferred via portkey to MI6.

IMBM

“The leaders have been identified, and all except for Nott have supposedly been in Azkaban for the last decade,” Kingsley Shacklebolt told the assembled group of M, Q, and double-ohs. “We’re putting out a release that says they all died in a prison riot.”

“And the story for Nott?” M asked.

“Accident by misadventure. Those who’ve been arrested were interrogated with Veritaserum. The truly criminal have been put on trial for crimes unrelated to Ouroboros. The rest have been obliviated as to non-magical involvement and released.”

“You let them go?” Q questioned. “After all that work?”

Kingsley shook his head. “It’s not a crime to attend a meeting. Hopefully, they’ll think twice about looking into this kind of organization in the future. The ringleaders, those who knew about the weapons and helped create them, are dead or imprisoned. And security at Azkaban has been ramped up.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Q said, uneasily. “You verified their involvement or knowledge with Veritaserum, you said?”

Kingsley nodded. “Severus’ special brew. And Q, we know who they are. They'll be watched.”

Q relaxed a little. “That makes me feel a bit better, then. But I doubt this is completely over.”

“It never is, Q,” Kingsley said heavily.

M cleared his throat. “That brings me to a point of personnel.” He looked over at Severus. “002, do you wish to remain a part of operations at MI6? You acquitted yourself well here, and I think you could do good work with our other magical double-oh.”

Severus looked thoughtful. “I’m not interested in a full-time career as an assassin,” he admitted. “But I’m open to consulting.”

“Fair enough,” M said. “We’ll release you from double-oh status, and work out contract details for consulting on select missions. And, if you’re amenable, training our magical agents as they reveal themselves.”

“I am amenable,” Severus said quietly. “It’s good work you’re doing here. And someone needs to help Q with that aspect of his mission.”

Q shook his head. “I’m the Quartermaster. I only engage in training when it comes to showing people how to work my gadgets. Training agents is not within my purview, normally, so having someone available to take on that aspect of this new collaboration would be enormously useful.”

“As you say,” Severus said.

“That’s settled, then.” M drew out his own tablet. “Magical training and missions consultant. I wonder how we’ll work this with HR?”

IMBM

James took Q home.

They picked up curry on the way, and settled into the living room with their dinner and a Dr. Who boxset.

“Do you suppose we’ll see more or fewer magical threats, now that the biggest of the dark threats has been taken care of?” James asked thoughtfully, watching as the Ninth Doctor regenerated.

Q shrugged. “There’s been a study number of magical threats over the last 10 years. This is the first that was devoted to revolution. Most of the rest are wizards who are attempting to use their magic in pursuit of other, non-magical goals, like making money at the expense of human rights.”

“And what about Harry Potter, Q? Will he ever make an appearance in the magical world?”

“Never say never, James, but I’m content.” Q set his empty bowl on his coffee table and leaned back into James. “As long as I have you.”

James pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

 

The End of Mission One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this story arc, but not the last of this story. I've got a second mission in mind, and one shots featuring Ron and George and Alec, Severus playing consultant, and some fun with James and Q. I hope you enjoyed this first intro to a world I'm really enjoying! PF

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Escaping](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10938075) by [The_Raptor_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Raptor_Queen/pseuds/The_Raptor_Queen)




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